


Only Held By Gravity

by nubianamy



Series: Star Among the Moons [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Danny, Friendship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Schmoop, Soul Bond, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two days after discovering Danny's a werewolf, Stiles gets hit with another big surprise. Stanny (Danny/Stiles), third season AU with soulmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consumedly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumedly/gifts).



> This story was written for a Teen Wolf holiday gift exchange. I was given the opportunity to write Stanny, which is a pairing I hadn’t even considered, but it’s lovely! 
> 
> The prompt was for Alpha Danny, which gave me a little trouble, trying to make it work with canon and to stay as much in character as possible, so I played a little fast and loose with details — including resurrecting a dead character only to kill him again in a different way. 
> 
> The prompt also requested the soulmate trope, which is something I’ve not really written before, so I made up my own version of that. The first four chapters are written, with plenty of room to continue it. This is set after the third season hiatus. Warnings for m/m sexual exploration and angst, but I’m a believer in happy endings, so they’ll get there. Enjoy, and happy holidays to consumedly! 
> 
> -amy

 

When Stiles had been a boy — he wasn’t sure exactly when, but his mother had definitely still been alive, because she’d laughed at him — they’d had a conversation at school about good touch and bad touch.  A  _conversation,_  it had been, rather than a lecture, because instead of filing into the gymnasium and lining up in rows on the dirty floor to watch adults speak too earnestly about uncomfortable topics, they’d sat down in a circle in their classroom with Mrs. Ramsay.  She was the school counselor who smelled like breath mints and wore wrinkly soft skirts.  They’d been forced to look each other in the face while Mrs. Ramsay spoke in her sonorous voice.  It had been embarrassing enough that they hadn’t even laughed when she said words like  _private parts,_  but had sat in silence while she encouraged them to communicate their needs and establish a bubble around themselves and stuff like that. 

They’d certainly had gymnasium lectures about other things, before.  Maybe they hadn’t quite been old enough for sex education, but before they’d turned eight, the school had made sure to teach the kids about the facts and myths about pairbonding.  The kids who had parents who were pairbonded didn’t necessarily understand it better than any of the rest of them did, and although there was a certain cachet to being a child of pairbonding, the phrase  _my parents are soulmates_  had the tendency to inspire more fights than smiles.  

Stiles almost never talked about his own parents’ pairbond anymore, because it tended to make his dad go silent and get out the whiskey, but at the time, the lecture had been useful to explain a few things.  No, there was nothing physical to indicate who would be your soulmate, or when you might meet them, but it was a generally agreed-upon truth that when you knew, you knew.Yes, you could choose to ignore it, but it wouldn’t go away, and you wouldn’t get a second soulmate if you declined to partner with the first one.  Yes, the biochemical mechanism behind pairbonding was well enough understood by now, but it still  _felt_  like magic, in the same way that flying on a multi-ton airplane was still pretty amazing no matter how much physics you knew.  And yes, partnered soulmates had some remarkable collective abilities, beyond the doe-eyed stupid smiles that usually marked them, including but not limited to empathic connection and enhanced reflexes.  Like every romantic song ever, it was the stuff of legend, and even the people who spoke of it with derision or skepticism still did it with a certain wistful hope:  _maybe, someday, I’ll get that._

Stiles had liked Mrs. Ramsay.  She’d given him plenty of squashy hugs and listened with patient aplomb to whatever he’d been going on about on any given morning in the hallway at school.  Mrs. Ramsay had listened, as well, when Stiles had complained to her about the  _conversation._ It wasn’t the fact that they’d  _had_  the conversation to which he objected.  It was the idea that somebody would think touching was bad.

“There’s no such thing as bad touch,” he’d declared.  “All touching feels nice.”

That had prompted Mrs. Ramsay to make a phone call home.  Claudia Stilinski had never been particularly appreciative of the public school system, but she liked Mrs. Ramsay too, and when she’d come to school to talk in her office with Stiles present, he’d simply felt pleased that he had two nice snuggly people to stand beside and lean up against.

Stiles’ mother had laughed when Mrs. Ramsay had asked Stiles to repeat what he’d said about bad touch.

“He’s a tactile kid,” she’d agreed.  “But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t say no to something, if he didn’t want it.  I trust him.”

That had felt good, to hear his mother say  _I trust him,_  about anything at all, but especially about feelings.  Feelings weren’t something anybody in their family talked about much — not then, nor eight years later.  

Eight years later, Stiles still hadn’t figured out this compunction some people had about touching.  He’d hung on to his mother’s label,  _tactile kid,_  because it was true.  He liked to pick things up and handle them, enough that every teacher in the school had yelled at him on more than one occasion to  _put that pencil down or so help me Stiles._

But it was more than just hands.  Scott had pointed this out to him one day during freshman  year, while they were in the locker room.  They’d been having a conversation about lacrosse drills, and Scott had taken a step back, and then another, and finally another until he’d stopped, pressed up against the bank of lockers, looking uncomfortable.

“Dude,” he’d said, putting a hand on Stiles’ chest, “I know you have zero personal space, but can’t you at least wait until we have clothes on?”

It hadn’t occurred to Stiles that they hadn’t been wearing clothes, nor that the amount of space between them as he talked at Scott was anything less than appropriate.  But after that, he started to be aware of other people’s reactions to his physicality.

“I feel weird if I’m too far away from people,” he’d said one day to Allison.  She’d slipped an arm around him and pressed her thigh up against his, in a completely fraternal way, and Stiles had grinned and rested his head on her shoulder and felt understood.

But although it was clear that most people just didn’t get it, nobody was actively irritated at Stiles for his tendency to want to be  _close._   Nobody, that was, except Danny Mahealani. 

Danny had always been too polite to say more than “Stiles, back off,” but he’d refused to let Stiles get too close to him.  It had always been that way, even when they were kids.  Stiles thought later that this might have had something to do with Danny being gay.  That would make sense, except Danny wasn’t that way with any of the other guys on the lacrosse team.  He was physically demonstrative with Jackson and his friends, but when Stiles would try to fist-bump him or make a move that looked like it might end in body contact, Danny shied away.  

* * *

Stiles had noticed this, of course, but he didn’t really have any feelings about it until the day in June when Stiles returned from visiting his uncle in Oregon.  While Scott was scavenging in the kitchen for food, Allison happened to mention that things had changed for Danny.  Like, a lot.  

Stiles literally fell off Scott’s bed onto the floor, resurfacing to stare at her.

“He’s  _what?”_

She nodded, looking sympathetic to his confusion.  “I only got the story secondhand, but it seems like the Alpha pack was angry at Ethan about his relationship with Danny, so they sent one of their werewolves — Ennis, I think his name was? — I get so confused at all the players...”

“Danny’s a  _werewolf?”_

“Well, Danny was defending Ethan — which, okay, stupid, but it was his boyfriend, right?  And Dr. Deaton had given Danny this mistletoe tincture to use for protection, and he had it in his coat, and after Ennis bit Danny, I guess he just basically shoved it down Ennis’ throat.”  She grimaced.  “So that took care of Ennis.  And Ethan took Danny back to Derek, and he —“

Stiles had finally regained his footing, but he didn’t feel particularly steady.  “Wait, wait, wait.  Danny got bitten by a werewolf and nobody thought to  _tell_  me this?”

“I’m telling you,” Allison said patiently.  “It happened, what, three days ago?  And you never respond to Scott’s texts.”

“I would have responded to  _this,”_  he insisted. He ran a hand over his forehead.  “Jesus christ.  And he’s — what?  He’s okay?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.  He healed.  Derek took care of him.  Scott and I went over to see him yesterday.  He looked…”  She shrugged.  “He looked fine?”

_Fine_ was probably not what Danny was feeling, if Stiles had Scott’s transformative experience to judge by.  But there was something else niggling at him, something that didn’t leap to the forefront of his understanding until Scott returned, bearing a bag of tortilla chips and a container of guacamole.

“So Danny shoved his hand down Ennis’ throat,”Stiles said casually to  Scott, who choked on the chip he was eating.

“Yeah,” Scott said, when he could breathe again.  “I wasn’t there when Ethan brought Danny over to Derek’s, but he told me it was pretty gruesome.  But his hand was all better by the time we saw him yesterday, along with everything else.”

It would have been easy for Stiles to curse and stomp around and complain how everybody and their brother was becoming a fucking werewolf, but he had marginally more sense than that.  

“He’s going to need somebody to talk to,” he said instead.  “Somebody who’s not already a werewolf or a kanima or a siren or — or anything else mystical.”

Scott glanced at Allison.  “You mean he needs a Stiles?”

“Yeah… Wait, no!  No.  I’m not volunteering.  Danny thinks I’m annoying.  I’m just thinking, after killing a —“  That’s when the other shoe dropped, almost loud enough to hear.  Stiles closed his mouth, which had been hanging open.  “Oh, my god.  He  _killed_  Ennis?  One of the  _Alpha_  pack?”

“Yeah,” Scott said grimly.  “Like we needed another Alpha around here.  Derek and Peter have been giving each other a lot of dark meaningful looks, but they haven’t gone into detail about what’s going to happen next.”

“Like, does he start his own pack?” Allison asked thoughtfully, taking a handful of chips.  “Does he have to join the Alpha pack?  And is Ennis his Alpha, technically?  I don’t even know if that matters, anyway, if he’s dead.”

Stiles wondered if he should feel at all bad for Ennis, being dead and all, but the majority of his brain’s processing power was still being taken up by imagining Danny, straining at the bonds of his own flesh.   _Okay, not going there._   He swallowed. 

“What do you say to somebody who just became a werewolf, anyway?  Is there a card for that?  How about a cake?   _Congratulations, you’ve been infected!”_

Allison reached out and smacked him on the shoulder.  “Who says Danny’s happy about it?  As far as I could tell, he was pretty pissed off.”

Scott shook his head.  “Yeah, and as much as I don’t trust Ethan, I feel kind of bad for him right now.  I don’t think he’s happy about it either.”

“He doesn’t  _want_ his boyfriend to be a werewolf?”  Stiles was reaching the end of his tolerance for all this gift horse-mouth-looking.  “Why the hell not?”

“You’d have to ask him,” was all Scott said.

* * *

That was all Stiles heard about Danny for two more days.  On the second day, he met Scott at the end of his shift at the veterinary clinic, waiting for Deaton to clear him to leave so they could regroup at Stiles’ house for their usual diet of summer reruns and pizza.  

“I’ll be right out,” Scott called.

“No more than five minutes,” Stiles told him, “or you’ll have officially nasty cheese on your pizza.”

Stiles put all his weight on the exit bar, shoving the door open — and found himself abruptly nose to nose, up close and personal with Danny.

“Jesus,” he exhaled, flinching away.  “What the hell?  Can’t you hear me coming now?”

Danny actually looked more startled than Stiles felt.  “I’m still trying to figure out that hyper-sensitive listening business.”  He took a step back, looking beyond Stiles to Scott, waiting behind him.  “Scott, I need a favor.”

“Uh… sure?”  Of course, Scott didn’t bother to ask what it was first, because he was that kind of guy.  Danny dodged Stiles as they stepped down onto the concrete.  

“Would this be a favor of the werewolfian variety, or more like an  _I need to borrow ten bucks_  kind of thing?” Stiles asked, falling into step beside Scott.  

Danny didn’t bother to acknowledge him.  “It’s Ethan,” he said to Scott.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s kind of… freaking out about me.  Being like him, in the pack of Alphas?”  Danny was fidgeting, biting his lip and playing with the hem of his shirt sleeve.  Stiles would have said  _Danny_  was the one who was freaking out, but he wasn’t going to say that to him.

“I’m sorry,” Scott said, with a regretful grimace.

“Seriously, I think… I think he was already getting ready to break up with me, when Kali sent Ennis after me.”

“Hey, that sucks, man.”  Stiles watched Danny’s eyes flicker over to him.  He didn’t try to hug him.  “And now Ethan feels, what?  Guilty?  Because you saved his life?”

“Maybe.  Scott, I just need to be somewhere where he won’t come, just for one night.  I can’t go to Derek’s or my house.  Can I crash at your place?”

“Sure, of course.  Stiles and I were just going to hang out.”  He looked meaningfully at Stiles.

“Yeah, totally, you come too,” Stiles chimed in quickly.  “The more the merrier.”

For a second, Stiles thought Danny was actually going to bolt.  He didn’t seem anything like the usual Danny.  Normally he was calm, relaxed, but right now he looked completely wrecked.  

As Stiles watched, he appeared to make an effort to pull himself together, growing more focused and still.  Eventually he nodded.

“Thanks.”

Danny sat, silent and withdrawn, in the back seat of Stiles’ Jeep.  Neither Scott nor Stiles attempted to engage him in conversation; he didn’t seem to want it anyway.  Even after Stiles guided the Jeep into the driveway and put the parking brake on, Danny didn’t seem to be in any hurry to climb out.  

“Should we just leave him there?” Stiles murmured, coming around to the passenger side.  

Scott looked somewhat disturbed, but he shrugged.

“It’s not like he can’t take care of himself,” he said.  “Even against Ethan — or Aiden, if it comes to that.  He’ll be okay.”

It was weird, though, thinking of Danny sitting by himself in Stiles’ driveway, especially knowing he was specifically trying to be alone.  While he got plates out of the cupboard and poured glasses of soda, Stiles kept flashing on memories of Scott’s first couple weeks after he was bitten, how frustrated and anxious he got reacting to every little sound or smell.  Danny didn’t seem to be feeling that way, but he was clearly dealing with some heavy shit.  Not that Stiles had ever been Danny’s best bud, but it just felt…  _wrong,_  that he was coping with it on his own.  He didn’t even have his boyfriend to help him anymore.  

Stiles didn’t even make it through the first commercial before he was on his feet, setting down his Coke and heading for the door again.  Scott looked up, startled.

“What is it?”

“He could just sit in the kitchen or something,” Stiles called back from the hallway, “if he doesn’t want to watch with us.”

But Danny wasn’t in the car.  It wasn’t pitch black, and there was plenty of light from the half-moon, but Stiles scanned the side yard and down both streets without any luck.  

“Danny?” he called softly.  He could only hear the sound of frogs and far-off traffic.

Finally Stiles wandered around to the back of the house — and almost collided with Danny for the second time in an hour.  Danny seemed less surprised to see him this time, but he shied away from Stiles’ approach with a frustrated groan.  

“What is it?” he said, his voice clipped.

“Well, I don’t know, man, but last time I checked there was some pretty serious shit going down in your life.  You gonna blame me for being a little worried?”

Danny huffed.  Stiles tried to make eye contact with him, but Danny wasn’t having any of that.

“Just go back inside, Stiles.”  

“See, I don’t think you actually want me to do that.”

Danny gritted his teeth — ordinary teeth, but no less intimidating for all that.  Stiles felt himself flinch a little, but he stood his ground.  

“Go… inside.”

Stiles was done being subtle.  He grabbed for Danny’s arm, all the while desperately hoping that Danny’s wolfly instincts didn’t suddenly kick in and make him eat Stiles’ face or something.  But Danny stood there, as solid and impenetrable as ever, and let Stiles try to budge him — without any luck, of course.  

Danny closed his eyes for a moment, and took a long breath in, then let it out.  Then he raised his face to Stiles’, as though he were resigning himself to some cruel fate, and looked him straight in the eye.

“Hey,” Stiles said, but that was as far as he got before his breath stopped.  

Everything stopped — the blood pumping through his veins, the air ghosting over the hairs on his skin, even the ability of his lips to form words.  The stars seemed to recede, enclosing them both in an envelope of silent darkness.  Stiles just paused there, frozen in Danny’s regard, as though he had all the time in the world to resume breathing.

It wasn’t anything like he’d always thought it would be, Stiles decided later.  There were no fireworks, proverbial or otherwise, except the ones behind Danny’s anguished eyes.  He didn’t feel sweaty or tingly or faint, just maybe a little hyperaware of his body, and the way Danny wasn’t looking away.   He understood, though.  He wasn’t looking away from Danny, either.  He never wanted to stop looking at him.  

“… Oh,” he said.  It was inadequate, but it was all he could get out.

“Yeah.”  Danny’s voice was barely loud enough to hear.  “That.”

“You — you knew?”

Danny’s glare was petulant.  “I’ve known for years.”

Stiles wasn’t putting any distance between them, and for once, Danny wasn’t requiring it.  He blinked, clearing his throat.  

“So we’re…”

“Soulmates.”  Danny didn’t say it with distaste or scorn.  He just sounded exhausted.  “Yeah.”

_For years?_   Stiles wanted to demand.   _You knew for years and you didn’t say anything?_ He wanted to yell, to take on some of the righteous indignant anger he thought someone was entitled to feel upon discovering he’d been lied to for that long.  

He thought he  _should_  feel those things, but what he actually felt was a deep, abiding calm that settled over him like a blanket.  He realized, for the second time, that he was still holding Danny’s arm.

“Well.”  His mouth was dry.  He sought to moisten it, running his tongue over his teeth.  

Danny dropped his eyes to the point of connection between their bodies.  His skin was several shades darker than Stiles’.  Stiles’ objective mind appreciated the aestheticism of the contrast, even while the rest of it was throwing a complete shit fit.  

“Tell Scott I’ll find him later at his place,” Danny said.  He gently disconnected Stiles’ fingers from his arm, his mouth set in a grim straight line. Before Stiles could muster a reply, he was gone.  


	2. Chapter 2

Now the panic awoke in Stiles’ stomach, growing with each moment.  He looked around and reconciled this new, mindboggling truth — _soulmates —_ with the empty space and silent air in his side yard.  His bare feet were chilly in the grass.  

_My soulmate just left me here._

Stiles thought he should probably go inside.  He hung on to that simple directive, letting it carry him back to the driveway, up the walk, onto the porch and through the door, to where Scott sat on his couch, eating his eighth piece of pizza and looking at Stiles with mild concern.

“He didn’t want to come in, huh?”

Stiles reached for his Coke, noticing that his hand was shaking, but that was definitely, absolutely not his biggest concern.  No, apparently his overriding desire was to get back into touching distance with Danny as soon as fucking possible, and to put his hand back on Danny’s arm, and to stay there for, like, _ever._

“A thing,” he croaked.  He shook his head and tried again.  “Something happened.  Outside.  On the — something happened.”

Now Scott looked alarmed.  “What?  Was it Ethan?  Is Danny okay?”

Stiles had to laugh.  _Ethan,_ this newly-awake part of his brain scoffed.  _Pitiful competition._  

His gaze fell on the photos lined up on the windowsill, three of them in cheap little metal frames. The first was his mother, posed in her wedding dress, holding a bouquet.  The second showed both his parents, Stiles’ dad’s hand wrapped around his mother’s forearm, holding her loosely.  Stiles didn’t make it to the third picture; he just stayed on the second, looking at the way his dad and his mom were aligned, one within the arms of the other.  He felt himself wanting that.  _Yearning_ for it.

“I, uh.”  He had no idea how he was going to say the word _soulmate_ to Scott without completely losing it.  “You know that pairbonding thing?”

“Yeah?”  Scott leaned toward him impatiently.  “What’s going on?”

“Danny.”  Stiles paused, his mouth tasting the name differently, now.  _It is different.  A different era.  This is AD — after Danny._ He laughed again. “He wasn’t in the Jeep, and I went looking for him, and, um…”  He gestured uselessly at the door. 

Scott’s eyes were gradually widening.  “Stiles, are you saying —“

“Bonding.”  He still wasn’t having a lot of luck with words, but Scott was appearing to get the gist, so he just gave up trying.  “But he took off.”  _He hates me.  He’s my soulmate, and he hates me._

Scott rose to his feet, walking toward the door, then retraced his steps, ending crouched in front of Stiles, searching his face for understanding.  “Did he _say_ anything?  I mean… god, Stiles, are you sure?  How do you even know?”

“Yeah.  I’m sure.”  He was as sure as he knew his own hateful name.  “I don’t really know how, but Danny — he was sure too.  He said…”  Stiles had to pause again, mustering the words.  “He’s known for years.”

“Jesus,” Scott breathed.  He put a hand on Stiles leg, clutching him with no small amount of desperation.  “This is really complicated.”

Stiles leaned into the contact.  It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it was a damn sight better than nothing.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Complicated.”

“You okay?”

That was even more complicated.  “I don’t know,” he finally said.  He could tell he was about to cry, and while he was pretty sure Scott would tolerate that, he wasn’t sure if _he_ could.  He closed his eyes, feeling the lack of something tangible — something he hadn’t even known he was needing until ten minutes ago.  

Scott shifted so Stiles was resting more on his shoulder, and sighed, patting his back, as Stiles’ entire body began to shake.  

“Fuck, man,” he whispered.  “What is going _on_ here?”

“You’re really asking me that?” Scott shook his head.  “I have no freaking idea.  Nobody in my family is pairbonded.”  He pulled back out of the awkward hug and looked frankly at him.  “I think you should talk to your dad.”

“No.  No way.”  He shook his head emphatically.  “Any time I try to talk to him about _anything_ that even touches on my mom, he gets all morose and refuses to do anything at all.  And this —“  Stiles beat down the hysterical laugh.  “On top of everything else that’s going on, I really don’t think he needs to hear that I’m — that I dig guys.”

Scott considered this soberly.  Finally he shrugged.  “You know your dad best, but I can’t see him getting upset with you about that.  I mean, you don’t really have control over who you bond with, do you?”

Stiles could feel the panic rising again inside him, but he beat it down with more words.  “Okay, if I’m lucky, maybe he won’t care about the guy part so much, but — fuck, Scott, a guy _werewolf?_   That’s so far off the radar of what any dad wants for his kid, it might as well be on fucking _Venus.”_

“Stiles,” Scott said urgently, staring into his face.  “This is Danny.”

Stiles knew that Scott probably meant _he’s a good guy,_ or _he’s a man’s man,_ or something like that, but the word reverberated inside him in a way that stole his breath and made him clutch at Scott’s shoulder.  _Danny._  

“Oh my god,” he whimpered.  “Oh my fucking god, Scott.”

Scott just hung on.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

Stiles was thankful Scott let him cling as long as he did, because it was a little like recharging his batteries and a little like determining which way was up in a zero-gravity environment. Everything was new and different.  _Everything._   Smells were different; his own room sounded different.  He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to venture outside and try to interact with people.  

“I think every third word out of my mouth is going to be _pairbonded_ for a while,” Stiles warned him, and Scott had the generosity to laugh. 

“Whatever, man.  You can be obnoxious about it.  But…”  He leaned back, looking troubled.  “You’re going to need to figure out what Danny thinks about it, too.  And before you do that, you really have to talk to your dad.”

What decided Stiles, finally, was imagining accidentally running into Danny in the grocery store or the library with his dad.  There wasn’t anything less appealing than the idea of his dad hearing the words _I’m your son’s soulmate_ for the first time from somebody else’s mouth.  He swallowed his distaste and nodded reluctantly.  

Scott stood up.  “Yeah.  I think I should go home.  If Danny’s actually coming over, I need to be there, and if he doesn’t…”  He shrugged.  Stiles could hear Scott completing the sentence: _neither of you need me here._

He walked Scott to the door and watched him drive away, but once Scott was gone, he had no idea how to do the next part.  It wasn’t a question of the right words to say.  It was more like Stilinski men never told one another anything.  _Anything._  

Stiles sighed.  _Well, that’s as good a place to begin as anywhere._   He edged around the corner of the hallway like he was trying to ambush somebody, until he was standing within six feet of the kitchen table where his dad was working.  Eventually, his dad looked up, appearing to be startled. 

“Stiles, for Christ’s sake,”  he exclaimed, putting a hand to his chest.  “Are you stalking me?”

“Kind of.”  He paused, then chose the chair across the table from his dad.  If he chose to sit beside him, he might end up charging him, huddling against him like a freezing man in a cave. There was going to be nothing easy about this conversation.  He was just going to have to say what needed to be said, and deal with the consequences.  _Fuck._ He took a deep breath.  “Okay.  So… I’m just letting you know, I’m freaking out.”

His dad’s gaze sharpened.  He set his pen down on the table and leaned forward.  “Thanks for the warning.  What about?”

Stiles held up a hand.  “Just… let me do this.  So, you and me, we have this nonverbal thing.  As in, I don’t tell you stuff, you don’t tell me stuff, but we can kind of deal with one another anyway?”

He waited until his dad nodded, still watching him carefully, as if he were expecting Stiles’ head to spin around three-hundred-and-sixty-five degrees.  Stiles nodded back.  

“Yeah.  But I don’t think I can do this one without words.  So I’m asking you not to interrupt me until I’m done, and — and if it feels too hard, just pretend we’re doing that nonverbal thing or something?”

Stiles’ dad’s eyebrows went all the way up on his forehead.  “Stiles, are you on meth?”

“No,” he groaned.  “No.  Just… dad, promise.  I have three things to say.”

His dad nodded.  Stiles reached across the table and grabbed his dad’s pen, twiddling it across his knuckles three times before he opened his mouth again.

“I met my soulmate tonight.  Less than an hour ago.”  He kept his eyes trained on that point where his dad’s hands touched the table, saw them tighten abruptly, but true to his word, he kept silent.  Stiles took a deep breath and continued.  “He — it’s a guy.  He’s in my class.”  He swallowed his tears.  “And he kind of hates me.”

“Oh, Stiles,” his dad said softly.  At Stiles’ irritated glare, he cleared his throat.  “That was four.  Is there more?”

“No.  That’s… god.  That’s enough, huh?”  

There was, of course, but Stiles wasn’t going to say the word _werewolf_ to anyone in regard to Danny until he was sure Danny wanted the rest of the world to know.  Everybody knew Danny was gay, but this was new.  This was Danny’s alone to tell.  

His dad didn’t reply to that, but he reached across the table, holding out his hand.  For a moment, Stiles thought his dad was asking for the pen, but then he gestured impatiently, and Stiles’ own hand slid inside his dad’s palm, holding it tight.  

“A guy, huh?”

Scott had been right: that was going to be the easiest part.  He nodded.

His dad's expression was sour, but he didn’t let go of Stiles’ hand.  “You know your uncle Mark’s gay?”

Stiles hadn’t, but when he thought about Mark, he could see it.  “I’m not gay, dad.  I’m just… it doesn’t matter all that much that he’s a guy.  To me.  It could have just as easily been a girl.”

His dad didn’t say _are you sure,_ or _how do you know._   All of that apparently was moot, which Stiles completely got.  He knew, and he was sure, and there were no words for why, and his dad knew all this because he and his mom had…  Stiles’ eyes unexpectedly filled up with tears.

“I think I realize now how much it must have sucked, when she died.”

“Yeah,” his dad said roughly.  “It really did.”  His hand tightened hard enough to feel painful, but it was the good kind of pain, the one that came with a cleansing or pulling off a band-aid.  His eyes wandered to the kitchen, getting lost in the middle distance of memory.  “She knew before me.  And I kept trying to logic her out of it, but I knew, too.  I wished to hell we would have met sooner.  I’m not saying our whole life was perfect, or even that we liked each other all the time, but… there was no question, for either of us, that we needed to do this.  To have you, to spend… every moment we had, together.”

Stiles was pretty sure his dad had never said that many words to him at one time.  He stared at him, waiting to see if more was forthcoming, but that seemed to be it.  

“So,” Stiles said at last, “just to be clear, you’re telling me…”

“I’m telling you to go find this guy,” he said.  “Whoever he is.”  His dad shot him a pained look.  “Please tell me it’s not Scott.”

“No,” Stiles replied quickly, “not Scott.”  

“Okay.”  His dad gave his hand one more squeeze, then let it go.  Stiles kneaded it with his other hand, letting the circulation return to normal.  “So even if you guys hate each other, it’s worth it to try to work it out.  If you never trusted me about anything else, trust me about this.”

“Dad,” he said softly.  “I trust you.”

His dad nodded, waiting until Stiles pushed out his chair and stood up.  They seemed to be reverting back to the nonverbal, which was perfectly okay with Stiles.  But he really couldn’t see how this was going to go.  Every scenario ended with _and Danny got angry and ripped out my throat._   He stood by the doorway, and apparently looked lost enough to make his dad sigh in annoyance.

“You know where he is.”

Stiles shook his head.  “I could try his house, but he said he didn’t —“

His dad shook his head.  “No, Stiles.  You _know_ where he is.  The bond gives you that.  You just have to learn to tune in to it.”

“No way,” he blurted, fascinated despite himself.  “How do you do that?”

A look of pain passed over his dad’s face, and for a moment, Stiles wondered if he should have asked that.  But it subsided enough for his dad to answer.  “You think of the last place you saw — him.  Then you follow the thought to where he is now.”

It sounded kind of ridiculous to Stiles, but when he closed his eyes and pictured Danny, standing outside on the side lawn, he watched him take off down the street like he was viewing a video clip, turning corners and waiting for traffic.  It was clear he wasn’t making it up.  When, at one point, he watched Danny pause and throw up onto a nearby lawn, he grimaced.  His dad regarded him warily.

“He’s… not doing so well,” he muttered.

“There’s a reason for that.  Like it or not, you’re going to have to deal with this.”

Stiles closed his eyes again.  Danny was still there, jogging across Madison at the light and heading up Green.  Stiles had a suspicion of where he was going now.  “What if I don’t _want_ to?  Are you telling me this — this virtual one-person GPS is going to be in my head all the time from now on?”

“No.”  His dad sounded angry now.  “It’ll fade, in time.  I’m telling you you’re an idiot if you don’t at least talk to the guy.  Once-in-a-lifetime doesn’t mess around.”

That felt like a kick to the stomach.  He breathed into the pain for a few seconds before digging in his pocket for his keys.  “And what do I do once I find him?”

Stiles’ dad’s face went through some interesting convolutions, but it ended on resigned.  “Bring him back here.  Or at least call me and tell me where you guys are.  I’m going to have to talk to his parents at some point.”  He crossed his arms.  “You’re seriously not going to tell me who it is?”

“It’s… Danny Mahealani.”  

His dad blinked.  “Oh.  Yeah?  That kid on your lacrosse team?  Doesn’t he play goalie?”

 _Yeah, and he’s also got an evil Alpha werewolf boyfriend._   He just nodded.  Then he thought of one more thing.  “Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Are you going to… do you think you could maybe… while I’m gone, could you… not drink?”

His dad started to respond, then cut himself off, and sighed.  “Yeah.  I guess I could not do that.”

That made it both easier and harder to leave without hugging his dad, but he felt a little less like he was going to throw up himself as he started his Jeep and headed for downtown.  


	3. Chapter 3

At each stoplight, Stiles closed his eyes and thought of Danny in the side yard, and there he was, turning corners and loping down the dark sidewalks.  He could tell Danny was making his way through the city at an incredibly rapid rate — but, okay, werewolf. 

Finally he managed to loop around and intercept his course.  Danny was just about to cross Thompson when Stiles pulled up at the corner and honked his horn. Danny stopped there on the curb.  He was breathing hard, but Stiles knew that didn’t mean anything.  Maybe he could have run another eight hundred miles tonight; he had no idea what the range of a new werewolf was, but it was bound to be something ridiculous.  

“I could see you coming,” Danny said.

“Yeah.  My dad told me how to find you.  So we’re kind of mutually stalking one another in our heads all the time.  Sorry if that’s totally creepy.”

Danny approached the passenger window.  “Stiles, it’s not like it’s your fault.”  

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean it’s not my responsibility.”

Now Danny laughed.  It was quiet and a little rueful.  “It’s not a dictate.  We don’t have to do anything about it.  It’ll — go away on its own.”

“My dad pointed out that throwing out something like this without even talking about it is kind of morally irresponsible.”  He watched the pace of Danny’s breathing slow down, though the pulse on his neck was as quick as ever.  It made him a little jumpy to watch.   He shook his head to clear it.  “So are you going to get in the car or what?”

For a moment, Stiles wasn’t sure if Danny was going to stay or take off again.  But he finally opened the door and climbed in, looking down at his sweaty shirt with distaste.  “Sorry about your seats.”

“Trust me, they’ve had worse on them.”  He wasn’t going to bring up Derek and the black disgusting pus.  “You were heading for the national forest, weren’t you?”

“I figured that might be a good place to be alone for a while.”  He glanced over at Stiles.  “You knew that?  You could tell?”

“It was just a guess.  I mean, if I had superpowers and I was dealing with the stuff you’re dealing with, I think I’d go there.”

There had been no laughter on Danny’s face, not all night, from the moment Stiles almost collided with him outside Dr. Deaton’s office.  He didn’t see any now, either, but Stiles thought he might be suppressing a smile.  

“Superpowers.”

“Hell, yes.”  Stiles accelerated onto the highway back to his exit.  “You’re not going to tell me a werewolf doesn’t have superpowers.  Not after the quasi-magical shit I’ve seen.  And your boyfriend —“

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”  

The statement was quiet, not dramatic, but Stiles felt… _something._   Like he was rummaging around in the bag of Danny and his hand could kind of guess what he was touching, but it could have been a coin or a ring or a magnet or any one of a number of things.  He resisted the urge to reach out for Danny’s hand.

“You… don’t seem too upset about that,” he said.

Danny sighed, leaning back on the seat.  “I suspected for a while.  He wasn’t ever going to be okay with what I could offer him.”

“What, because you were working for different sides?”

“That, too,” Danny agreed.  

Stiles waited another minute, biting his tongue, until he decided the _not talking_ was just not working for them.  “Look, I’m sorry that you got stuck pairbonding with a guy you hate, but I really think we should —“

“I don’t hate you,” he interrupted.  

“Okay, hate’s kind of a strong word.  I’m sorry I’ve always bugged the crap out of you.”

“You don’t do that either, Stiles.”  Danny was staring fixedly at the dashboard.  

“You don’t have to be nice to me just because… this happened.  I can take it.”

“I’m not trying to,” he insisted.  “Whatever you think about me, you’ve got it wrong.”

This was confusing.  Stiles paused at the end of the exit ramp.  “What I think about you?  I always thought you were a genuinely nice guy.  Like, everybody likes you.”

Danny made that not-smiling face again.  “Thank you.”

“Yeah, see?  You’re even polite to me.  So I don’t think I’ve got that wrong.”

“I’m just saying I don’t think you’re annoying, and I don’t hate you.”  He moved his gaze to the window.  “You can drop me off at Scott’s, if you don’t mind.”

“Dude, I’m not dropping you off anywhere!” Stiles exclaimed.  “I came to get you so we could figure this out.  Don’t tell me you’re in such a hurry to talk to Scott instead of me.  He doesn’t know anything about pairbonding.”

The streets were empty, and Stiles was mostly on autopilot, heading back to his house, but when Danny reached out and put a hand on top of Stiles’ on the gear shift, he jammed on the brake, nearly colliding with the Carters’ mailbox.

“Jesus.”  Stiles stared at Danny.  “What was that for?”

“What was _what_ for?”

“You’ve _never_ touched me before.  As in _never.”_

Danny didn’t refute this.  He sighed, withdrawing his hand.  “I’ve been avoiding you for so long, it’s hard to stop.  And the times I’ve tried to change that haven’t gone so well.”

“The times you’ve — like when?”  Stiles inched the Jeep forward down the street.  His stomach was a jumble of thoughts and feelings.  

Danny snorted.  “You, in the locker room, declaring for all the world to hear that you need to get laid?  There was no way I wasn't going to tease back.”

“Yeah, that was completely about trying not to get killed.  Okay, mostly about that.  And your offer was — I don’t even know what it was, but it would have been sweet if you’d been serious.”

He muttered something that Stiles couldn’t quite hear.  Stiles stopped again just before turning into his driveway.

“What was that?”

“I said I was serious.”  

He did sound serious, but Stiles laughed anyway, until he noticed Danny’s uncomfortable face and stopped.  “Holy shit.  No way.  But you said —“

“I know what I said.  It was stupid, thinking I could get away with that with Scott there and everybody listening.”  He winced.  “Jackson would have given me shit for days if he’d been there.  So I’m sorry for treating you that way.”

Stiles felt incapable of moving the last twenty feet before he grasped what Danny was saying.  He put the parking brake on, there on the street, and turned to him.  “So all those times, when I made a — and you blew me off every time, you’re saying those were all… what?  You, trying to ignore me?  Why?”

“Because.”  Each word sounded labored, like it was hurting Danny to say them.  “I knew who you were.  I knew you were my pair.  And I could see how you were around Lydia.  I didn’t see any point in bringing it up.”

“But I _flirted_ with you,” he said.  Danny rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.  Straight guys flirt with me all the time.  Doesn’t mean anything.  I know that game really well.”

He bit back a frustrated groan.  “You’re not making any _sense._ This is me we’re talking about, right?  Dorky, awkward me?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you get to play that card anymore, Stiles.  Not when you turned out to look like —“  Danny gestured ineffectually at him.  “Like _that.”_

Stiles wanted to laugh again, but he didn’t.  He just gaped at Danny.  

“You’re still being serious?” he said finally.  

Danny smiled, shaking his head.  “God, Stiles.  You have no idea?”

The tangled sensations in his stomach had spread to his limbs.  He flexed his hands on the steering wheel.  “I guess I’m starting to.  But I don’t get why it’s so impossible I could have been serious too.”

“Because you’re _never_ serious about _anything,”_ Danny snapped.  “ _Am I attractive to gay guys, Danny?_   Yeah.  I wasn’t going to answer that.”

“God,” he whispered.  “I’m so sorry.  I really — I’m serious, Danny, I had _no_ idea.”

“That was intentional.  I kept you in the dark for a reason.”  Danny turned, his hand on the door.  “Have we talked enough about this now?  Because I’m just going to walk home at this point.  I’ll deal with the chance of running into Ethan.”

Stiles knew there was no way he could keep Danny from leaving if he wanted to, but he put a hand on his shoulder anyway.  Danny didn’t turn back to face him.  He just waited, tense and listening.

“Are you saying that Ethan broke up with you because of _me?”_  

Danny sighed again, and nodded.  

He licked his lips.  “Because of — what?”

“Because as much as I could avoid touching you or looking at you, I couldn’t completely turn off my reaction to you.”  He spoke in a monotone, but Stiles was beginning to tune into this weird sensation he was experiencing.  He hadn’t realized until that moment that it was coming from Danny.  “All I could do was keep it to myself and hope to make it through senior year without you finding out.   You could have spent the rest of your life, just being another guy who didn’t know who his pair was.”

Stiles shook Danny’s shoulder in exasperation.  “How is that at all fair?” 

“It didn’t matter, Stiles.  I already knew.  It wasn’t going to be any worse, not telling you.”

“No, I’m talking about me.  How is that fair to _me?”_

Danny jerked his head around to look at Stiles, his brow furrowed.  “What?”

He took a deep breath and dug in with his words.  “Maybe it was a fair judgement, that I never take anything seriously.  But you were going to take that choice away from me.  Shouldn’t I get a chance to make that decision myself?”  He let his eyes travel over Danny’s body and back to his face, watching the expression of outrage appear on his face.  “I mean, come on, you’re not such a bad catch yourself.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about,” Danny sighed.  “How am I supposed to take you seriously when you’re always teasing like —“

Stiles released the buckle on his seat belt and launched across the passenger compartment to land on Danny’s chest.  Whatever words he might have said were obliterated by Stiles’ mouth on his.  

It wasn’t that Stiles had all that much experience with kissing, and he sure as hell had never kissed another guy.  It was that he was sure, as sure as he was that Danny and he were pairbonded, that this was the best kissing he’d ever experienced.  That, in fact, if he never kissed anyone else again, he would be satisfied with this.  _A lot of this._

“So I do that,” Stiles said, struggling for breath.  “I tease.  It’s how I deal with stress.  It doesn’t mean I don’t care.  Or that you’re not damn hot.”  He splayed his fingers on Danny’s chest, feeling its firmness, so different from the soft pliability of girls, with curiosity and a little bit of awe.  “Wow.  Yeah.  No, what it means is — I barely know you.  And yeah, maybe I was flirting with you before, and it probably didn’t mean anything, but — god, Danny, now it means — a lot.  I don’t know what it means to you, but my dad was pairbonded, and… to me it means a lot.”

Danny had been watching Stiles intently throughout this flood of words, his eyes traveling from Stiles’ mouth, to his eyes, to his hands resting on Danny, supporting his weight.  Stiles was watching him in return, even as Danny spoke, his gaze softened.  He reached out a hand and touched Stiles’, brushing over the backs of his fingers, holding them against his own chest.  

“I… can tell,” Danny said softly.  “I can tell it means a lot.  I can feel that.”  He smiled, looking more surprised by that than he was by Stiles resting against him.  “I can’t be sure if that’s my — my werewolf superpowers, or this connection between us, but it sounds like it might be the latter?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but… maybe?”  Stiles glanced up the empty driveway.  “I don’t know exactly what to suggest we do next, but I should probably move my car.  And, um.  You’re invited in.”

Danny’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t pull away.  If anything, he held Stiles’ hand more tightly, which felt _amazing._ Stiles wondered what would happen if he rested his head on Danny’s shoulder.

“Can you clarify what you mean by that?” Danny asked.

“What do I mean.  I mean — I mean my dad said I should invite you over.  That’s kind of as far as I got.  I didn’t really plan the kissing part, but I would definitely do more of that.”  He tried to look as earnest as possible.  “I’m not teasing.”

“No,” Danny said. “No, I can tell that too.”  He looked at the driveway, then behind Stiles’ head down the street — and then both arms came around Stiles, encircling him and pulling him closer and _ohh,_ there was more kissing.  This time, though, it was definitely Danny driving things, and Stiles realized that whatever had been happening a moment ago, that was _nothing_ compared to what they were doing now.  He felt his limbs go slack, and made a noise into Danny’s mouth that he would have termed desperate.

Danny brushed his lips against Stiles’ cheek, finding his ear, and murmured, “You can say no, any time, okay?”

“No,” Stiles gasped, “no, god, no, I’m not saying that.  I’m not.”

“Because you’re kind of playing with the product of years of fantasies, here,” Danny went on.  Stiles whimpered a little, and he didn’t even care when Danny smiled.  “I’m willing to be told no, but I’ve got a lot of material to explore here.  And if you’re saying your dad’s okay with me coming in, and _you’re_ okay with me coming in, I think I’m going to want to… explore.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“If you’re saying your dad’s okay with me coming in, and you’re okay with me coming in, I think I’m going to want to… explore.”_

Danny’s words were motivation enough for Stiles to manage to reclaim enough motor control to face forward and put his hands on the wheel.  He gunned the accelerator, and the Jeep leapt the twenty feet up the driveway before coming to a screeching halt three feet from the garage door.  Danny just laughed.  

“Yeah,” he said, “that’s about how I feel, too.”

Stiles gave a breathless laugh of his own.  “Yeah.  I can feel it, I think.  I can’t really tell how much of it is me and how much of it is you.”

Danny’s eyes twinkled.  “I think… I think it doesn’t matter much anymore?  If this is what we’re going to feel, the way it’s going to feel… from now on, then the things we feel are… all _us?”_

Stiles thought this through as he climbed out of the car, taking a moment while he was safely hidden from Danny’s view to adjust himself in his jeans.  That made him wonder if Danny was hard, too, which led him to wonder if he might get rebuffed if he tried to find out for himself — which led to some very detailed and specific images about what might happen if he were not.  

By the time they made it to the front door, he was lightheaded and breathing heavily.  Judging by Danny’s own dark eyes and flushed cheeks, it was a reasonable risk to take.  He put his hands on Danny’s hips, pulling him close, and kissed him, right there on the porch.

“You can say no, too,” he added, his hands already making their way around to Danny’s decidedly firm and amazing ass.  “I’m feeling a little stupid, but I’d still listen.”

“Oh,” Danny said, smiling around each kiss, “trust me.  If I wanted you to stop, I’d make you listen.”

That sounded incredibly appealing to Stiles, but as Danny wasn’t saying anything that sounded like  _no,_ he had to appreciate what he had in front of himself — which, as had become very apparent, was indeed just as hard as Stiles himself.  Nor did he seem to object to Stiles grinding their mutual hardness together.  This felt like the most delicious, decadent permission that Stiles had ever been given, so much so that he decided he should ask to be sure.

“This is really okay?” Stiles asked, squeezing Danny’s ass to be certain he was conveying exactly what _this_ was.  

Danny’s response was to slide his own hands around to cup Stiles’ ass and to thrust a little harder into the hollow of his hip.  Stiles gasped, letting himself be used in that way.  

“Oh my god oh my god.”

“I should probably be the one asking that question,” Danny said, “but at this point, I don’t think I even need to ask.  I can just tell.  That’s pretty amazing.”

Stiles stepped back, taking a moment to breathe, then unlocked the front door.  He gestured for Danny to go in first, then followed him in, shutting the door behind them.  

“I think I should go in and let my dad know I’m here.  That, um, we’re here.”  He tasted the words, wondering what they meant.  _Are we a “we?”_  

“I’ll go with you,” Danny said.  “I’ve met your dad before.”

Stiles hesitated, wondering if his dad had been telling the truth about not drinking while Stiles was away, but in the end, he figured there was no point in trying to hide things from Danny.  There was obviously some level of automatic trust that came from living in another person’s head.  He nodded, gesturing down the hall.  Danny walked with him, falling into step with Stiles.  It felt surprisingly comforting.

“Dad?” he called, to prepare him as much as anything.  “It’s me, and… and Danny.”

He heard the scratch of a chair against the floor.  A moment later, his dad was standing in front of them.  He didn’t look particularly drunk, but Stiles knew his dad was pretty good at hiding when he was.

“Hello, son,” his dad said to Danny, holding out his hand.  “It looks like the two of you were able to work something out?”

“Yes, sir,” Danny said, nodding as he shook Stiles’ dad’s hand.  “I’m Danny Mahealani.”

“If I recall correctly, you play goalie for the Cyclones?”

“Dad,” Stiles hissed.  His dad cleared his throat.  

“Yes, well.  I suppose we can continue this conversation another time.  It’s good to see you again.”  He hesitated, then added, “When you’re ready, boys, we can talk about… the pairbond, and how to deal with it.”

Danny smiled.  “Thank you.  That would be really helpful.”

The whole situation was a hell of a lot more embarrassing than Stiles had expected it to be, but Danny was calm as Stiles nudged and prodded his way down the hall.

“He’s nice,” Danny protested.  “And it’s polite to talk to a guy’s parents before you — you know.  End up in his bedroom.”

“I think you’ll discover that my family’s not much about the talking.”  Stiles backed into his room, watching Danny as he entered and glanced around.  _Oh my god, there’s a guy in my bedroom.  A guy with whom I’m about to do some serious making out.  Probably for the rest of my life._   He leaned down and gathered up the worst of the dirty laundry.  

Danny sounded amused.  “I think you’re doing just fine with the talking.”

“Oh, thanks.”  He glared reproachfully at Danny.  “Who’s teasing now?”

“No, I was serious,” Danny assured him.  He approached Stiles slowly, holding up his hands, as though Stiles were an animal that needed taming.  

Stiles huffed.  _Fuck that._   He headed straight for Danny, cupping his face and kissing him hard, trying to imitate what Danny had done earlier.

Danny’s response was to put a hand on Stiles’ chest, pressing him back toward the wall.  He looked calm as anything, even though Stiles could feel what was thrumming under the surface.  It made him catch his breath. 

“Let me drive, okay?” Danny said. 

Stiles waited a little too long to answer, because Danny had already moved in against him, untucking Stiles’ shirt and pulling it up to touch the skin of his abdomen.  That was far more hot than he’d anticipated, and he reached for Danny’s shirt to do the same.  But Danny nudged him away, a gentle reprimand on his face.  Stiles felt himself flush.

“Let,” Danny said again, more slowly and emphatically, “me… drive.”

“Okay,” Stiles squeaked.  

This time, he let Danny edge a hand under his shirt, brushing his stomach, without trying to reciprocate.  It felt a little selfish for Danny to be doing the touching and for him to just wait to be touched, but the sensation of Danny’s fingers against his skin trumped any guilt he was feeling.  He moaned softly.

“Yeah,” Danny said, sounding satisfied.  “That’s good.  I like those noises.”

It took a while for Danny to work both hands under Stiles’ shirt, kissing him while he touched, eventually winding up with both thumbs on his nipples, and _god,_ why hadn’t he realized how good that felt before?  By the time Danny had reached the part where he was lifting Stiles’ shirt up over his head, Stiles was breathless and squirming, bucking up against Danny’s leg with shameless desperation.

“I don’t know how fast you want to go,” Danny said, resting one hand on Stiles’ hip.  “But I’m not going to push you.  We can stop right here.”

Stiles wondered if it would make sense to step back and calm down, the way he’d always been asked to do with girls when things had gone too far.  Instead, he mirrored Danny’s hand, placing it on his hip, then edged lower, using his thumb to trace the length of the hardness in Danny’s pants. It was satisfying to hear him catch his breath and curse.  

“I’ve been told to stop a lot,” Stiles said.  “Pretty much every time I got to this point, really.  And if you’re not telling me, I don’t want to stop.  I don’t think I’m _supposed_ to stop.  Not with you.”

Danny leaned in and kissed him while Stiles continued the progress of his thumb, up and down, listening to the reactions he was eliciting with fascination.  

“You still get to say no,” Danny assured him.  “Any time, for any reason.  But I don’t want to stop, either.  I want…”

He didn’t go on with that thought, getting lost in Stiles’ touch.  Stiles dared to shift his hand, pressing the palm against Danny’s cock and letting him rut against him.  It was amazing how much pleasure he took, just from his hand touching Danny.  When he realized precisely why that was, he laughed.

“I can _feel_ how much you like that,” he marveled.  “You… I _know_ what you want.”

Danny’s breath came harder, more ragged.  “Yeah?  You want to tell me what that is?”

There wasn’t any sense in what Stiles said next, but he wasn’t thinking rationally.  He just knew it was right.  “No — I just want you to take it.”

The sound that came out of Danny’s throat wasn’t human.  It was the growl Stiles had heard from Scott, many times, just before he’d leapt into action.  He’d heard it from Derek, too, and from any number of other werewolves over the past two and a half years.  He wasn’t about to call it _good_ or _bad,_ but from Danny, there was no question that it was _hot._   He pawed at the fly of Danny’s khakis, whining in anticipation.

“Stiles,” Danny said, his voice deep and throaty.  Stiles could see his eyes glowing red — the red of an Alpha.  “Do you have any idea what you’re asking for?”

“No,” he admitted.  “If you think we should stop and talk about it, I’ll do that, but… I don’t care.  That’s the truth.  I trust you.  That’s the truth too.”

Danny slowed his touching, until he sat, and Stiles sat beside him.  He wasn’t moving away, nor was he asking Stiles to move his hand.  Stiles attempted to control himself, but feeling the way Danny was pulsing in his palm made it hard to do anything other than grip him and stroke him off right there.  

“This is more than just… sex.”  Danny’s voice was still growly, thick with desire and control and other things that made Stiles want to pull him down on top of him on the bed.  But he listened, trying to focus as best as he could.  “When an Alpha takes someone — penetrates them — that person becomes part of their pack.”

The word _penetrate,_ spoken in Danny’s wolf-voice, made Stiles quiver in very specific places.  “Okay,” he managed.  “That sounds… not a whole lot more definitive than this soulmate thing.”

“Being part of someone’s pack is a limited bond.  You don’t have to join a pack, when you’re a wolf.  But if you do, you’re beholden to them.  To all of them.  And to tell you the truth, I don’t really know what it will mean for a human to be part of someone’s pack.”

Stiles had enough blood left in his brain to make sense of this question.  He rested his hand on Danny’s thigh.  “Allison should know,” he said.  “She and Scott have been going at it for a long time.”

This made Danny pause.  “I hadn’t realized that,” he said slowly, “but… yeah.  You’re right.  She’s his pack.”

Stiles took Danny’s hand, clasping it tight.  “So, yeah.  It makes sense that I would be your… pack.  Because you and I are bound to each other for life.”

Danny’s eyes slipped closed.  For a moment, Stiles thought he might be in a kind of trance.  But then his chest rose again, and fell, and he saw the tear on Danny’s cheek.  It made him a little scared, but he it didn’t stop him from reaching up a hand to touch the tear with his fingers.

“Hey,” he murmured.  

“I’m — adjusting,” Danny assured him.  His voice was still steady, even though the tear was joined by another.  “Just… this is going to take some time.  It’s not bad.  It’s just — a lot.”

“I get it,” Stiles said.  “I mean, I think I do.  We don’t have to do this tonight.”

He could feel the trembling inside Danny, where no one else could see.  So he took both hands and placed them on Danny’s hips, pulling Danny down on top of him.  Danny held himself up on his hands and knees for as long as it took Stiles to lie down prone, and then his full weight was on top of Stiles’ thigh, pinning him on the bed.  

“Not tonight,” Danny agreed.  “But very soon, I’m going to take you like this.  And you’ll be mine.  My pack.”

The words were enough to drive them both into thrusting against one another, losing the rhythm and finding it again and again, until it was clear that neither of them was going to walk away from this without dealing with it more constructively. 

“Okay if I ditch these?” Stiles said, reaching for his own zipper.  Danny nodded, watching him closely as he took off his pants and boxers, tossing them in a heap on the floor along with his shirt.  By the time he was naked and back on the bed again, Danny was halfway out of his own pants.  When Stiles tried to reach for him, to help, Danny gave him a little nudge back onto the bed.

“Let me watch you do it,” he said, taking Stiles’ hand and putting it on his own cock.  “I want to see how you like it, so I know what you want.  Then you can help me.”

While he undressed, Stiles watched him, stretching back against his pillow.  It was a little surreal to be jerking off in front of another guy, especially one who’d asked him for it, but he definitely wasn’t going to complain.  He tried to be as obvious as possible about what he was doing, where his thumb was, how many times he made long strokes before going back to short ones.  

Once Danny had his own pants off, he climbed onto the bed, kneeling over Stiles and stroking himself, and it was Stiles’ turn to watch.  Danny hadn’t restricted Stiles’ movement, giving him plenty of leeway to put his hands where he wanted them.  When Stiles let go of his own cock and reached for Danny’s, it was clear it wasn’t going to take him long.  Danny leaned back on his heels, letting his head drop back with a groan. 

“God, Stiles, your hand,” he muttered, twisting his hips and thrusting into Stiles’ grip.  “You, touching me… I seriously can’t believe this is happening.”

Stiles laughed, watching his hand move faster on Danny’s cock, the thick purple-red of the head, the way his balls lifted up into his body the closer he got to coming.  _I’m doing that,_ he thought, and it made him proud.  _I’m doing that for Danny._  

“You can believe it,” he assured him.  “I’m going to do it a lot.  This is so hot, I — I don’t even know how to tell you.”

“Yeah.”  Danny put a reassuring hand on his cheek.  “There’s so much more.  I want to do it all with you.”

Even the end part, which Stiles figured would just be messy, was sweet.  He should have expected that from Danny.  The way he growled when he came on Stiles’ chest was hot, but then he knelt beside Stiles’ legs and used the box of tissues to clean him up, carefully wiping up every bit of sticky fluid.  His eyes were still red, even though he spoke with the voice of a human now.

“Would you let me suck you off?” he asked.

Stiles could barely choke out a _yes, please_ before Danny was climbing in between his legs, nudging them apart with his strong, thin fingers.  

“Nobody’s ever — well, done any of this before, really, but —“  He broke off into a moan as Danny used his lips to envelop the tip of Stiles’ cock.  “Holy shit.”

There wasn’t much talking after that, but Stiles moaned every time Danny took him in his mouth, until it was just one big long drawn-out moan.  He felt the climax coming, almost too late, but he did manage to say, “Wait wait wait.”

Danny did, pulling off and looking up at Stiles, breathing heavily, his lips red.  “What do you need?”

“Nothing, I’m just —“  He laughed shakily.  “I don’t think you want me to come in your mouth.”

Danny just raised an eyebrow at him.  “Stiles, that’s _exactly_ what I want you to do.”

“But…”  He had no idea what to say to that.  

“Werewolves and humans don’t pass STDs to one another.  Our biochemistry isn’t compatible.  You’re going to have to be okay with coming down my throat any time I tell you to.”

That was all Danny had to say.  Stiles had nothing to say in reply. He closed his eyes, letting himself _feel_ — and every piece of the experience suddenly appeared there in his mind: his overwhelming emotions, and Danny’s, and the progression of the whole night, like a timeline, stretched out for him to observe and appreciate and remember in complete detail.  It shook him.  

When he came, he was crying, not even scared of what that would mean to Danny.  Because Danny _knew._

“God,” he said, spread out uselessly on his bed.  “This is what it’s going to be like, every time?”

“Don’t worry,” Danny consoled with a grin.  He wiped his mouth before stretching out alongside Stiles, and wrapped him up in his arms. “I’m sure it’ll get better.”


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t easy to say good night to Danny, but he got dressed and walked him to the door when Danny prompted him to.  He didn’t even bother not to grin like an idiot. 

“Got any plans tomorrow?” Danny asked, squeezing his hand.

“If I did, I’d be canceling them,” Stiles assured him.  “But no.  It’s summer.  I’d say I’m scot-free, except Scott is about all I do have.” 

Danny let go of his hand.  “Not anymore.”  Down the hall, he called, “Good night, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Good night, uh — Danny,” came the startled reply.

He didn’t try to kiss Stiles goodbye, but it almost felt like he did, a kind of ghost of a sensation on his lips.  Stiles reached up and touched them, watching Danny head down the porch steps and disappear into the night.  

He was still standing there when his dad joined him several minutes later, his expression sober.  

“Things went okay,” his dad said, with a questioning nod.  

“Dad.” Stiles blew out a breath.  “Do we really have to talk about this?”

His dad shrugged.  “I don’t know who else you think is going to be your mentor when it comes to either pairbonding or relationships.  The second one, anyway, is listed in the job description for parents.”

“Does the job description also include _embarrassing the crap out of your son in front of his —“_ Stiles stopped, putting a hand on the window for support.  “Oh.”

“What is it?”

It was Danny.  In the corner of his mind that was apparently now reserved for his soulmate, he could not only see but _hear_ Danny’s progress through his neighborhood to Danny’s own.  He watched him enter through the garage door, let his dog out, and greet his little sister, who was eating pizza in front of the television.  He knew there was an extra key hanging behind the _E komo mai_ sign next to the door in the garage.  He knew Danny’s dog’s name was Baxter.  He knew his sister Cara liked pizza but was allergic to gluten.  He knew Danny was gathering up the courage to talk to his parents about — him.

“Dad,” he said, trying to stay calm.  “I’m _already_ distracted by everything around me.  How am I supposed to stay focused on anything at all when I’m getting a whole second set of input?”

“It’s not always that intense.  Whatever you’re feeling now, it might be the kind of thing that settles down over time.  But everybody experiences the bond differently.”  His dad looked a little envious.  “You’re getting his feelings?”

“Feelings, sights, sounds — all of it.  Not all the time, no, but… damn.”  He could taste the pizza in Danny’s mouth.  

“You can bet he’s getting yours, too, then.  But you’ll learn how to pick out a certain set of things to focus on.  Kind of like looking through your glasses instead of at them.”  

Stiles tried putting that metaphor into practice, and found himself blinking at his dad.  He hugged himself and shivered.  “Cold in here.”

“You’re going to have extra metabolic needs for a while.  Eat more, sleep more.”  His dad looked away.  “More, uh.  Sexual needs too.”

_Great.  Like I needed that._   “Good to know,” he said steadily.  “I guess I’ll make a sandwich before bed, then?”

“Yeah.”  His dad added, a little too casually, before heading back to the family room, “I’ll plan to come home for lunch tomorrow, and you and me and Danny can talk.”

He listened to Danny’s one-sided conversation with his mom while he spread peanut butter on rye.  _I need to tell you something, makuakane.  Stiles finally found out he was my uhane hoa.  No, I’m okay.  Thanks.  I think it’s going to be fine.  Yeah, he does._

_I do,_ Stiles agreed, and felt Danny’s focus shift abruptly inside, onto him.  It was a little like having him cup his face in both hands and stare into his eyes.  _Uh… sorry to interrupt?_

_Ku’u lei,_ was Danny’s reply.  _You’re not interrupting.  I wouldn’t mind you holding my hand when I tell my dad, though._

It was interesting how Stiles could tell _makuakane_ meant “mother” and _E komo mai_ meant something like “welcome home,” but in Danny’s mind, _ku’u lei_ just meant _Stiles._   He ate his sandwich and tried to imagine interlacing his fingers with Danny’s.  It made him unreasonably, stupidly happy.

He was pretty sure Danny’s dad wasn’t mad, but he asked Danny a lot of questions, including some that made Stiles blush.  _We’re having safe sex,_ was the answer to one, which wasn’t precisely true, but if he was going to leave out the werewolf stuff, it might be true enough, eventually?  He wasn’t going to get hung up about it.  _He’s not gay_ was the answer to another.

_I’m not exactly straight, either,_ Stiles added.  That made Danny pause.

_Really?_

_There was definitely a reason I was asking you that question about being attractive to guys._

_I thought it might just be me._

Stiles snorted, grinning into his sandwich.  _Nice ego, man._

Another answer confused him.  _He doesn’t have any, although Scott is kind of like one._

_What don’t I have any of?_

_Siblings.  Brothers or sisters.  That’s really important in my family.  I wish I could tell them about pack; they would get that._

That reminded him of Danny’s explanation of what _penetration_ would do _,_ and the images he had already generated around that.  He felt Danny’s heated response like a flood of liquid over his chest, and whimpered, dropping his crust on the floor. 

_God, Stiles.  You’re going to need to let me work up to that, okay?   I can’t just take your neck in my teeth and fuck you senseless. I’d hurt you._

_Yeah, well, I didn’t even know I wanted that until tonight, but as of now I am definitely ready to try it._

_Can you at least wait until I get done with this conversation before you start thinking about that?_

Stiles did his best to focus on the texture of the peanut-butter sandwich, which was still somewhat erotic but at least kept him a little distracted from ideas about putting things in his ass.  Danny seemed pleased with his mother’s reaction, and unsurprised by his father’s.  

_She wants to meet you,_ he told Stiles.  

_Yeah, my dad said he’d come home for lunch tomorrow so the three of us can talk.  You can come over whenever?_

_As soon as I wake up._

It was interesting, this kind of conversation.  Stiles appreciated the ease of knowing Danny’s feelings and thoughts, but it was oddly lacking in something crucial.  He thought about it while he brushed his teeth.

_Not sure how I can miss you so much when you’re right here in my head._

_We’re not touching,_ Danny pointed out.  _I think that’s pretty important for soulmates._

_It’s important for me, anyway.  But I’m kind of used to not getting that. The touching._

_You’re getting it from now on, ku’u lei._

It was another one of those holy shit moments, and Stiles had to pause for a moment, leaning heavily against the sink.  

_You might get sick of me,_ he cautioned.  _I’m pretty obnoxious._

Danny was clearly ignoring that comment.  _You might want to text Scott and let him know you’re okay.  I bet he’s worried about you.  And try to get some sleep._

Stiles was more than a little distressed to discover masturbation held zero interest for him, even with all those compelling images of rough werewolf sex dancing in his head.  He tried it anyway, but eventually gave up in disgust.  

_I think you broke my dick,_ he told Danny, and felt his laughing response.

_Sorry?  You might be getting some idea of why I’ve been a rotten boyfriend._

_Excuse me?  Are you trying to tell me you’ve had zero sex since you found out I was your — thingama-hoa?_

_Uhane hoa,_ Danny corrected.  _Not zero.  It just hasn’t been very good sex._

Stiles stared down at his limp dick in dismay.  _Even with yourself?_

_You get over it._

That wasn’t a very helpful answer.  _In that case, I’m going to make it my personal mission to try to make up for the last — how many years has it been?_

Danny didn’t reply.  Stiles prowled around his bedroom, sitting at his desk, then rising to pace to the window.  The blanket on Danny’s bed was wool and a little scratchy.  Danny slept in his boxers and nothing else.  

_Danny,_ he pleaded.  _I’m really bad at the not knowing.  Just tell me._

Danny sighed.  _Eight._

Stiles sat down again abruptly, this time on his bed.  _Eight.  Eight years?  You’ve known I was your soulmate since we were in fourth freaking grade?_

_I’ve explained why I didn’t tell you._ Danny was a little irritated.  _If you want to judge me, judge me for not talking to you about it, not for how long I’ve known.  Now go to sleep._

Stiles tossed and turned a couple times before letting out a sigh and turning off his light.  He lay in the dark, staring up at the half-open window.  

_Sleep, Stiles._

_Pretty sure I don’t know how to go to sleep without jerking off anymore,_ he said testily.  

_Oh, for the love of —  Count sheep or something?  Take a jog around the block?_

“You could tell me a story,” he muttered aloud, and he felt Danny sigh again.

_Did you talk to Scott yet?_

_Are you asking, or do you already know?_

_I was asking, but once you start thinking about it, I know the answer.  Just send him a text and tell him your side, all right?  I already let him know you weren’t dead._

Stiles didn’t see what this had to do with getting him to sleep, but he reached for his phone anyway.  He didn’t have a lot of desire to say no to Danny.  It wasn’t clear to him exactly why this was, but his logical brain said it was because Danny was, as he’d said, a really nice guy.

“I really could have done worse,” he said to Scott when he picked up the phone.

“Stiles.” Scott sounded relieved.  “I got a text from Danny that said _Everything’s okay,_ but — are you?  Actually?”

Stiles felt that same shit-eating grin rise to the top and surface on his face.   “Things are weird,” he admitted.  “But I think, yeah, they’re okay.  More than okay.  I was just saying I kind of lucked out, about Danny being my soulmate.”

“Wow,” Scott said.  “That sounds like a really big deal, when you say it that way.”

“Tell me about it.  Did you know I can actually hear his thoughts?  And he can hear mine?”

“No way!  I haven’t heard about that happening before.”  

“Well, my dad said it should fade after a while.”  He tried tuning into Danny, but for some reason, there was nothing there.  “I think he’s asleep now.”

“And your dad didn’t freak out?  About it being a guy?”

“Nah.  You were right.  I think the hardest part is going to be the way it’s reminding him of my mom, but… he’s kind of gritting his teeth and getting through all of it, the same way he does anything else.”  He checked on Danny again, but it was still quiet in that corner of his brain.  

“That’s good.  I’m really glad.”  Scott really did sound like he was.  Stiles wasn’t sure if it was the pairbonding or being overtired or what, but Stiles felt suddenly, incredibly grateful.

“Thanks, man.  For being awesome about all of this.”  _My pack,_ he wanted to say, but wasn’t quite sure how Scott would deal with that sentiment.  “I didn’t even bother to ask _you_ if you were freaking out.”

Scott laughed.  “Seriously, Stiles, after all the shit I’ve thrown at you over the past two years?  I think you’ve earned some freak credit.  But — no, I guess I figured out all that stuff about you and guys a long time ago?  And the fact that it’s _Danny…_ I don’t really think it matters what I think, but…”

“But he’s a great guy,” Stiles said.  “Yeah.  I’m noticing that.  I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?  We have this interrogation lunch date with my dad, but after that I’m guessing I’m going to need to fill in Allison before she kills you with questions.”

“Thanks; that’d probably be good.  See you tomorrow.  Get some sleep.”

Stiles wasn’t going to explain to Scott why that was suddenly much harder to do, any more than he was going to extoll the virtues of Danny’s abs or what a good kisser he was.  

_Thank you,_ Danny thought, sounding pleased.  

_Oh, I thought you were asleep?_

_Not yet.  Apparently I have one more thing I need to do._

Stiles was about to ask what that was when he was startled by a knock on his window.  Danny was standing just outside.  Stiles stared at him, scrambling out of bed.

“Dude,” he said weakly.  

“I could break in,” Danny said, breathing hard, “but I wasn’t sure if you had a security system.”

“No, no — here, let me just —“  He unlatched the screen, pushing it out to let Danny climb underneath.  “Did you _run_ over here?  What the hell are you doing here?  And how did you get here without me knowing you were coming?”

“I’ll teach you how to block me tomorrow.”  Danny managed to lift his long legs over the windowsill without knocking anything off Stiles’ desk.  “As to why I’m here, you were having trouble getting to sleep.”  He put a hand in the center of Stiles’ bare chest and pushed, moving him gently but effectively toward his bed.  “And I think I can do something about that.”

The skin-to-skin contact immediately made Stiles hungry for more.  He waited impatiently while Danny stripped off his sweaty t-shirt and reached for him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his ribs.  Danny’s running shorts weren’t doing a very good job of hiding his own arousal, but he didn’t seem to be thinking about that.  Stiles was a little overwhelmed when he began to pick up on what Danny _was_ thinking about.

“Wow,” he said, looking up at Danny kneeling over him.  “You — really want to do that with me? Again?”

“Most of the time,” Danny admitted.  He didn’t look like he was teasing now. He helped Stiles out of his shorts.  “I don’t like being in your house without permission from your dad, but I decided this was probably the best option for tonight.”

Stiles watched in awe as Danny moved down to kneel between his legs.  “This is a little fucking crazy.  I mean, at some point I’m going to have to figure out how to get to sleep without — this, right?”

“Are you telling me to stop?”

“No,” Stiles promised, “no, I — fuck.  I can’t imagine I’d ever tell you to stop doing that.”  He tried not to feel guilty, letting Danny take him in his mouth for the second time that night.  For the second time _ever._   He moaned as quietly as he could, settling back onto his pillow.

  _Stiles,_ Danny thought firmly.  _I’m a big boy; I can take no for an answer.  But this is about me, taking care of you.  In a very specific way, I was made to do that.  You can’t feel guilty about letting me do what I want to._

Hearing his mind-voice at the same time Danny was touching him made it obvious how much better it felt, having Danny right there beside him.  His orgasm was quick and explosive, and when he groped with one shaking hand for Danny to come up and lie on top of him, Danny was there immediately.  

“You don’t mind?” Stiles asked, feeling a little sheepish as he clutched at Danny, but liking it too much to care.  Danny chuckled.  

“I like to cuddle, remember?”

“Yeah, me too.”  He breathed him in, the scent of Danny’s sweat along with the remnant of whatever cologne he wore, and the sharp tang of his arousal.  “You didn’t — I mean, you’re still —“

“I have to get home quickly.  And I’m used to going to sleep without that.  I don’t need anything else right now, except to know you’re okay.”

Stiles frowned, even as his eyes slipped closed.  “That seems kind of unfair.”

“Sorry,” Danny said, and Stiles could hear him smiling.  “I’m kind of used to getting my way.  And now I have werewolf superpowers, and I have — you.  Honestly, I’m going to be completely insufferable.”

“You have me,” Stiles agreed sleepily.  He supposed it could have felt scary, but all it felt was right.

_Ku’u lei,_ Danny’s thoughts hummed as he kissed Stiles’ temple.  _Na’u ‘oe, no kau a kau._

When Stiles woke up briefly in the middle of the night, Danny was gone, the light was out, and the window was mostly closed.  He probed for him in his mind, but all he felt was a mild undercurrent of awareness.  He guessed that was what _asleep_ felt like to his bond.  

Wrapping himself in his comforter and rolling over was a poor substitute for Danny’s arms, but he managed to get back to sleep by reminding himself that in less than six hours, he’d have that again.  


	6. Chapter 6

True to his word, Danny showed up while Stiles was eating breakfast. He waited on the porch while Stiles held open the door for him.

“I looked it up,” Stiles said, swallowing his bite of cereal. _“Ku’u lei._ It was the only one I didn’t know automatically. Does this mean I speak Hawaiian too?”

“I think you won’t know the vocabulary unless I say it first,” Danny said.

Stiles felt Danny’s nervousness, and it made him feel oddly more confident. He reached out and touched Danny’s arm.

Danny glanced at his hand, then down the street to where Mr. Erikson was walking his dog. “You don’t care who sees us?”

“Not if you don’t.” But Stiles already knew Danny didn’t. He cocked his head. “What’s going on?”

“We should talk about this inside.” Danny was already heading into the kitchen. Stiles slowly shut the door, following him inside.

“You want some — oh.” Stiles stopped abruptly as Danny grabbed him and held him, tight enough to hurt. He squirmed a little, not really wanting him to stop, but deciding breathing was important. “You’re not okay.”

“I’m not okay,” Danny agreed, his voice muffled in Stiles’ hair. “I just need to do this for a few minutes, if that’s all right.”

“Just this?” Stiles could tell he sounded a little ridiculously hopeful, considering what he and Danny had done in his bed just the night before. Danny sighed.

“Yeah, I think it’s going to have to just be this for now. There was a —“ He paused, nosing his neck again. That wasn’t helping Stiles to keep it platonic, but he stayed as still as he could manage, letting Danny do that smelling thing, and followed Danny’s memories back to whatever had happened. When he saw it, he stiffened.

“Okay, I always knew Aidan was an asshole,” he began angrily, but subsided when Danny shook his head. “Sorry. Maybe I’m feeling a little defensive of you. Stupid, I guess.”

“I don’t mind. I’m feeling the same way about you.” Danny smiled faintly, brushing Stiles’ cheek in a gesture that made him go a little gooey inside. _“Na’u ‘oe.”_

“I don’t exactly know what it means to be yours,” Stiles replied, trying to keep his voice steady, “but — yeah, I guess I am?”

“It means _I’m yours_ as much as _you’re mine,_ but maybe it comes across a little possessive in my head.” Danny didn’t sound particularly apologetic about that. “So, yeah, he came over this morning to deliver… I guess it was a challenge? On behalf of his brother.”

“Great.” Stiles shivered, which just prompted Danny to hold him tighter. “A challenge for what? Deucalion’s still the alpha Alpha. What’s the big deal about just being another one of those Alphas?”

“I told him, I’m not going to be part of that pack,” Danny said angrily. “No matter what they tell me I have to do. It’s just not going to happen.” He was already pacing when he let go of Stiles, taking long strides across to the refrigerator and back, his expression fierce. “Pack is family. It’s people you can depend on, no matter what. I’m not going to jockey for position in a — a cult of power-hungry animals.”

“Danny!” Stiles tried not to back away. “Your eyes are red.”

Danny fell back a few steps on his own, closing his eyes and breathing. When he opened them, they were brown again.

“Sorry,” he said thickly. “I think… let’s talk about something else for a few minutes.”

Stiles’ cereal was soggy, but he sat at the table and ate it anyway, watching Danny seated across from him. “Okay… well, my dad said he’d be back around one? I think he’s setting himself up to be our pairbonding guru. I told him you already know stuff about it, but…” He waved his spoon. “You’ll notice stubbornness runs in my family. Along with the not talking.”

Danny shook his head. “You’re not being very convincing about either of those. You’re saying plenty of words.  And so far you’ve let me have my way every time.”

“Maybe I just wanted the same stuff you wanted,” Stiles retorted. It felt like a weak argument, but he didn’t much care. He shuffled his feet under the table. “Anyway, I think it makes him feel good to help. As long as you can tolerate him being around, I think we should humor him.”

“Your father was kind to me last night. I wouldn’t object to him wanting to help.” Danny paused. “And as far as — as my being a werewolf is concerned?”

Stiles leaned on his elbow. In that moment, the question felt particularly heavy. “We’re working on the supernatural stuff. I don’t think there’s any way he can deny it, not after what happened in the Nemeton.  I think Scott's mom has talked to him, but we haven’t really said much about it since then.  Except for him to say _so that happened,_ and _that explains a lot actually."_

"That's step one, anyway." Danny's attention was focused on the side of Stiles' cereal bowl. “Pretty soon, I’m going to have to find a way to tell my family. We don't have secrets from each other, not like this. But it might not go over well, especially not with my father."

Stiles felt the nervous tension in Danny's posture, the way he gripped the arms of the chair. He hesitated only a moment. “You’re still kind of freaking out.”

“Yeah.”

“I can... probably help with that? You know... like the way you helped me last night."

Danny sighed. "You probably could."

It was too far across the table for Stiles to reach his hand, so he nudged Danny's foot instead. “That would be cool with me."

"Thank you," he said stiffly. The tension wasn't easing. “Stiles, last night... I think I have to apologize. It wasn’t appropriate of me.  You didn't need to deal with that."

Stiles blinked at him. "Uh. Deal with what, exactly? I mean, what do you think you were asking me to --"

"I know you were willing. But you're not going to be ready for some of that stuff for a while, and it's not fair of me to bring it up just because I'm --"

"Hey." Stiles didn't care if Danny could tell he was annoyed. "I thought we went over this. Why don't you let me decide what I'm ready for?"

Danny considered him for a moment.  Then he said, “Close your eyes.”

Stiles did so.  Suddenly, Danny’s eyes gleamed red, and he leapt across the table at Stiles, making him scramble backwards.  Before Stiles could do more than cry out, Danny was on top of him on the chair, holding him down and burying his teeth in Stiles’ throat.

“Do you want this?” he growled.

“God,” Stiles gasped.  He was instantly hard, tipping his neck back and spreading his legs to afford Danny the very best access.  _Yes.  Please._

“Yeah.”  The word came out in Danny’s regular voice — from across the table.  Stiles shook himself, sitting up and grasping at the table, staring at Danny as he tried to get a grip on what was going on.  “Pretty realistic, huh?  Stiles, I could _make_ you want anything.  That doesn’t mean it would be right.”  Danny clasped his hands together on the placemat.  “So… I’m apologizing for last night.  I shouldn’t have pushed you.  I’ve waited a long time for this, and I can sure as hell wait a little bit longer.”

“Okay?”  He wasn’t sure what else to say.  Then he frowned.  Yes, he did.  “Just because you _can_ manipulate me into getting what you want doesn’t mean you _will.”_

“I _did,”_ Danny said, but Stiles shook his head.  

“No.  I don’t buy it.  You’re still working from the assumption that I’m not interested, and you’re leading me into temptation or some kind of shit.  Well, check it out: _I’m interested.”_   After that little pseudo-demonstration, parts of him were _definitely_ interested.

“You’re seventeen,” Danny countered.

“So are you!”

“Stiles —“

“No, listen, just because I haven’t been _having_ sex doesn’t mean I’m so desperate for it that I would settle for bad sex, okay?  I’m not just a —“

“Stiles.”  Danny’s voice was soft, but Stiles could hear the words behind them as clear as if they had been spoken simultaneously.  He stopped, letting his mouth close slowly.  Eventually he recovered enough to reply. 

“You’re in love with me?”

_I thought you looked up what ku’u lei meant.  My beloved.  You’ve been that for me for a long time._

Stiles’ face was hot.  He wasn’t sure where to look.  “Well… I guess I just thought it was kind of, like, an endearment.  _Baby, honey.”_

_I’m not calling you a name.  It’s just what you are for me._

“No, I guess… it’s not like you can lie to me in your head.”  He rose from his chair, walking around to the other side of the table and crouching down so he was in front of Danny.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Danny said, shaking his head.  “I wasn’t looking for that from you.  Maybe — someday, if we’re lucky.  But this isn’t going to happen overnight.”

Stiles knew he didn’t have to ask, but he waited for Danny’s nod before he slid his hand under Danny’s shirt.  He watched his eyes slip closed.  “I’m kind of thinking this _did_ happen overnight.  As in last night.”

“Not the bond.  I’m talking about the love.  I don’t expect you to… to fall for me, the way I did for you.”

Stiles felt even more at a loss, and just knelt there for a little while, his hand resting on Danny’s stomach.  Finally he said, “It’s not like I feel like I’m waiting around for someone else to show up, okay?  I’m here.  You’re really…” 

“A nice guy. I know.”

“No,” Stiles protested.  “That’s not what I was going to say.  I was going to say _hot._   And, okay, a little pushy, but I think I can deal with that.”  He slid his hand up to Danny’s chest, trying that thing with his nipple that had worked so well on himself last night, and watched Danny’s eyes go glassy.  “I’d have already asked you out if I’d thought I had a chance.”

Danny let out a soft sigh.  “You’ve — definitely got a chance.  As in the only chance.”

“See? Yeah.  I think that’s the kind of encouragement my ego needs: a sure thing.”  He grinned up at Danny, leaning in for a kiss.  It was just as good as he remembered it being last night, and this time he was in an even better position to appreciate its effects.  He placed his palm over Danny’s half-hard cock.  “So… god, I’m still nervous, asking you, and you already told me you were freaking in love with me.  In my _head._ ”

“I can’t promise I might not say no,” Danny said, his breath coming faster, “but I can almost guarantee whatever you ask me for, I’m going to want.”

“So does that mean I don’t have to ask?”

“ _Na’u ‘oe, ku’u lei._ ”

“Yeah?”  Stiles couldn’t help himself.  He grinned bigger.  “And you think you might believe that I want it too, even if you don’t use your werewolf superpowers?”

“I — might.”  A low rumble rippled through the air between them, not quite a growl.  It was more like a purr, but Stiles was pretty sure that werewolves didn’t do that.  “I’ll do my best not to use them, anyway.”

“You do that.”  Stiles undid the button on Danny’s jeans, tugging on his belt loops.  “In the meantime, I’m going to be a little busy down here.”

* * *

Stiles managed to be completely dressed and have the kitchen looking like he’d finished breakfast an hour ago when Scott and Allison showed up, but apparently it wasn't enough to convince either of them. One look at him and Scott was red-faced, and Allison grinned at him with barely concealed delight. 

"Stiles," she said, hugging him at the door, "can I say _congratulations?_ And maybe _it's about time?"_

He made a face. "About time for what, exactly? It's not like all of us haven't had our share of mystical occurrences."

"I'm not talking about that. You and Danny." She tossed her head at Scott's sigh. “What?  It’s romantic."

"Some people might like to have some choice over who they pair with," Scott muttered. "I don't think you can assume--" He stopped at Danny's appearance in the hall. 

"At least there's fourteen days until the full moon," Allison said brightly. She gave Danny a defiant hug. He accepted it graciously. "A little time until you have to deal with more new stuff. You doing okay?"

"Do you want the honest answer?" Danny looked far more calm on the outside than he was on the inside. Stiles was beginning to realize this was a common state of affairs for Danny. "It's even more complicated than you think." He looked over at Scott. "Ethan delivered a challenge to my pack status."

Scott grimaced. "Sorry; I don't even know what that means."

"He had to explain it to me, too." Danny touched Stiles' elbow. It provoked a definite reaction, this touching -- he supposed it would for a while, after years of zero contact between them -- but he wasn't sure if it was obvious to anyone but him until he saw Allison's face light up. 

"Can you leave them alone?" he heard Scott whisper on their way into the kitchen. "It's really none of our business."

"So, pack status," Stiles suggested loudly. He grabbed a bag of cookies and tossed them onto the too-clean kitchen table. He was pretty sure he'd picked up all the tissues after what he and Danny had done, but he took a quick look around just to be sure. "What's Ethan trying to take away?"

"Nothing I don't already want to give up," said Danny, settling next to him. "Ennis had some status when it came to pack hierarchy. That transfers to me, intentional or not. The fact that I'm not interested in being part of their pack apparently doesn't matter much."

"As a Omega, you're left open to attack," Scott began, but Danny shook his head firmly. 

"I'm not an Omega," he said. "I'm an Alpha. That means something, pack or no pack. And I'm not settling for a substandard place in a pack I don't trust. I'll follow the rules to a point, but I'm not going to compromise the things that really matter to me."

Scott was clearly at a loss, but Allison was nodding. "I get that. And I've been there, in a way. Trust, and real family… they matter."

Danny smiled in relief. "That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about. You and Scott: a human and a werewolf, together." He paused. "You're not pairbonded, but you are, um. Mated."

"Well, I'm not an Alpha." Scott looked like he might slide right off his chair with embarrassment, but he was still talking, which Stiles figured was a good sign. "It doesn't have the same implication."

"Another SAT word," Allison murmured, smiling blithely at Danny. She wasn't blushing in the least. 

Stiles wasn't at all convinced Scott was right about not being an Alpha, but he wasn't going to argue with him about it here. "Just, that you're together at all. Maybe I could learn something about what that means, for us. Not that Danny and I have, you know." He watched, kind of fascinated, as Scott squirmed. "Mated."

"Yet," Allison added, biting into a cookie, and grinned at Stiles as she waggled her eyebrows.

"That's something I'm wondering about," Danny agreed. "If that implication is right. What kind of effect does it have on the human? I don't even know if there are living examples of that kind of pairbond. A human and an Alpha werewolf?"

"Makes for interesting possibilities." Allison looked over at Scott. "I know there are still lots of unanswered questions, but if there's anything we can do to help..."

"I'm not totally sure yet, but I have some ideas. I'm guessing I'll end up talking to Derek or his uncle — Peter?”

"Watch yourself with him," said Scott. "I don't trust him. I mean, better them than Deucalion, but..."

Danny reached out for Stiles' hand, and without thinking, Stiles was there to meet it. Allison smothered a noise, making Scott roll his eyes, but Danny just looked earnestly at them both. “Whatever I learn, I’m going to need as many people around me that I do trust as possible, if I'm going to pull this off."

"Pull what off?" Stiles asked. He was a little distracted by Danny holding his hand, but Danny's next words were startling enough to refocus him. 

"Build my own pack," he said. "Starting with us. The four of us."

"Whoa, whoa." Stiles waved his free hand, shaking his head. "Slow down. What can the four of us do?"

"That's the problem, Stiles. I can't slow down. Ethan and Aidan challenged me for my place in the pack. I've got to meet them."

"Meet them," he echoed. "What, you mean... fight them?"

"You have to fight them to the death," Scott said. "Maybe even both of them together. But if you lose..."

"If I lose, or forfeit," Danny said grimly, "they'll kill me."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got really schmoopy. I’m not apologizing, but I decided I’d better warn you. I wrote it in ten hours during an international plane ride on my phone, which — wow, that’s the first time I’ve ever done that! Also, after the incident in the Nemeton with Stiles’ father, I decided he’d better just already know about werewolves and be done with it — but then I’ve still got Scott not quite an Alpha, so… I’m confused about my own timeline, okay? Apologies for that. Hope you can overlook the inconsistencies and enjoy it for what it is. 
> 
> -amy

 

Stiles listened with one ear as Danny, Scott and Allison talked in sober tones about the challenge, but he didn't manage to speak again until after they'd said goodbye.  He leaned against the door, pressing it closed, and stared at Danny accusingly.

"You can't kill Ethan.”

Danny turned away. _I might have to, ku'u lei._

"But he's your boyfriend!"

_Was. He went along with the challenge, which means on some level, he's complicit. I can't be responsible for his brother's actions if he isn't willing to deal with me directly._

Stiles glared at him. "Don't tell me. It's werewolf business, and it doesn't concern me. Right?"

"Of course it concerns you," Danny said aloud. "You're not going to convince me you're not interested when your thoughts are right here in my head."

"Did I say I wasn't interested?" Stiles huffed. "Trust me, I know how this goes. I've been through this before. You're the hero now, but me? I'm still the sidekick."

Danny smiled. It was gentle enough that Stiles probably should have felt annoyed, but it just made him shuffle in a step closer. “I’m pairbonded to you, Stiles. You can't assume it's going to be the way it was with Scott. A pair means two of a kind. You matter as much as I do in this equation."

"Even when it comes to pack?" Stiles heard how the question sounded. He might as well have been whining _But the big wolves won't let me play with them._ He was about ready to strangle himself. Luckily, Danny didn't seem to feel the same way. He wasn't pushing Stiles away or getting annoyed with him or anything. Stiles sidled another step closer.

_Even then. Once you're my pack, that'll be something nobody can take away. It's not a civil contract; it's a physical bond._ Danny touched his chest. _I can smell you on me._

As Stiles let the hand settle on him, he relaxed. "Thought you washed your hands pretty well."

_Deeper than that._ He grinned. _But that? No, I don't think I could wash them well enough to erase your scent completely._

Stiles licked his lips. "Yeah. Yours, either. I can still... even without werewolf superpowers."

It had never occurred to him how hot it might be to taste the flavor of another guy's come, at all, much less for hours afterward. But there was no doubt the lingering scent was making him hard all over again. He groaned a little, leaning into Danny.

"My dad said something about the pairbond making me hornier. Like I needed that."

"That's actually kind of a relief to know." Stiles could see the tips of Danny’s pointed incisors protruding from beneath his lips. "I'm really not used to this degree of... yeah. So the thought that it might calm down is... god, Stiles." He twisted away from Stiles' groping hands. "Isn't your dad coming home soon?"

"Yes. My dad." Stiles knew he had some self-control, somewhere. He rubbed his hands along the length of his thighs. "Okay. This is kind of insane. Didn't we just -- I mean, just, like less than an hour ago...?"

"I did," Danny agreed. "Pretty sure you did too." He crossed his arms across his chest, running his tongue over his teeth. "That fang thing is so weird."

“Just wait until you see what happens during the full moon." Stiles watched him longingly from a safe distance. "But right now... I'm really not sure how to keep from making this harder -- I mean worse. Worse for you, when you can just tell, anyway? Can't you see exactly what I'm -- what I'm thinking about you doing to me?"

Danny blew out a breath. _Okay. Prime opportunity to teach you about blocking._ He pulled out a chair from the table and placed it opposite, facing the other way. When he sat in it, Stiles couldn't see his face.

"Blocking. This is what you were doing last night, on your way over?" Stiles shook his head. "I think you're overestimating my ability to control -- anything at all, really."

_Just sit. Think about my hands, ku'u lei. What are they doing?_

Stiles watched in the corner of his mind as Danny pressed his fingers together, then interlaced them. "Turning me on."

_Behave,_ Danny chided. _More specifically._

Stiles sighed. "You're making the ok sign with your left hand."

_And now?_

As he watched, the picture darkened, as though something had smudged it. He frowned. "You're... showing four fingers -- no, three."

"How about now?"

"I can't tell. What are you doing?"

"You wouldn't be able to hear my voice either, if I were still trying to talk to you that way. I'm putting a cover over it. I can block your feedback too. My grandmother taught me how, after I learned you were my soulmate." Stiles heard him smiling. "Believe me, you're distracting enough without knowing about all the stuff you want to do to Lydia."

Stiles winced. "God. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I just thought it was rude, eavesdropping on you." He glanced back at Stiles over his shoulder. "Doesn't mean I didn't do it sometimes, anyway."

He laughed. "Really?"

"Really. I'd just sit in bed and let my mind pick up on what you were doing, and kind of... watch you..." Danny laughed too, sounding embarrassed. "I guess that's pretty creepy."

"No!" Stiles said, surprised. "I just think... I'm sorry you had all that time to be alone." Then he realized what he'd said.  He stood, feeling a sudden, profound need to be touching Danny, reached across the table -- and the smudge was gone, cleared away. He could feel his soulmate again.  He breathed in their connection. "God. Don't do that again, okay?"

Danny was silent, but that didn't matter anymore. Stiles could feel exactly what he was feeling, every bit of those eight years of solitude. He hurried around to where Danny was sitting, the tears dropping onto his lap.

"No, no, no," Stiles murmured, taking him into his arms, "it's never going to be like that again. I'm not going anywhere. This is -- hey, come on, it's okay."

He knew Danny wouldn't mind if he held him tight, so he did that, feeling the way their bodies fit perfectly together, arms and hands and lips, hungrily seeking, while his mind said all the things he knew were true: _you're a part of me, for ever and ever, I don't want to ever leave you again, you feel so perfect, this is what I've always wanted._

Danny wasn't letting himself cry, not the way he was feeling inside his heart, but Stiles forgave him that. Knowing how Danny really felt was enough, no matter how much of it was hidden from the rest of the world.

"I thought it was right to keep it from you," Danny said, his voice low and broken, "but I can tell now how lonely you were -- just like I was, and to think you were just waiting for me, that whole time... I would have kept that from you forever, Stiles, I _could_ have --"

"It doesn't matter," he said. He kissed Danny everywhere he could reach, all over his face, his neck, his mouth, trying to cut through the self-recrimination Danny was casting upon himself. "It's done now. And you _couldn't_ have kept me from you forever. I would have found you. I didn't even know I was looking for you and -- and I found you anyway. And god, I'm so glad." He was crying openly now, crying the way Danny was denying himself, but as long as one of them was feeling it, what did it matter? It belonged to both of them. "This -- this is exactly what I wanted."

_Ku'u lei._ Danny kissed him back, with a fervor that made them both groan. _I won’t ever keep it from you again.  It’s yours, as long as you want it._

Stiles felt the import of those words penetrate, felt exactly what they meant, when spoken by Danny. He smiled through his tears, kissing him again. He didn't mess around, his _ku'u lei._

_I'm yours, remember?_ Stiles told him. _Whatever I thought I could have before, this has changed all of that. Na’u ‘oe, and that's better than anything I could have imagined. You'll have me as long as --_

He had to cut that sentiment off at its root, because the specter of Danny's confrontation with the twins loomed suddenly over their future together. The thought of Danny being torn from him made Stiles clutch him tighter, pressing his lips to his neck, shaking.

_I know,_ Danny assured him. He had calmed down now, his control restored, and he held Stiles close. _It'll never be enough time. I would do anything to keep you. Anything._ He gripped Stiles' shoulders gently. _And your dad's going to be here in a minute. Do you want a second to --_

"Fuck that," he muttered into Danny's neck. "He knows what what this feels like. I'm not going to pretend." He kissed Danny again, slowly this time, building to a gasping fever pitch. _This is real. This is mine._

_Yes,_ Danny promised him, and Stiles believed him.

When Stiles' dad walked into the house, he stopped when he saw Stiles and Danny sitting together, hands joined, waiting at the table. He looked at them, then he dropped his gaze to the floor, and sighed.

"Okay," he said, resigned. "I get it. I do. I've been there. This doesn't have to be a lecture. The teaching parts can wait." He looked at them both pleadingly. "I just need you to agree to some ground rules."

"Mr. Stilinski," Danny began, but his dad cut him off with a reluctant shake of his head.

"There's no need, son. Anyone whose been soul bonded has thought through every possible argument to justify their need to be with their pair. Seeing as how you've circumvented the issue about accidental pregnancy, I'm just going to jump to my own concerns, all right?" He counted on his fingers. "Number one, your parents have to know. I'm not having anybody cheating under my roof."

Stiles stared at his dad. "Dad, we're not --"

"Number two," he pressed on, "you two are safe. Safe means no sex with anybody else, or it means condoms for everything, and I'm not --"

"Dad," Stiles said again. "He's a -- um. A werewolf. It's always going to be safe sex."

Danny shot him a baleful grimace, but at least Stiles' dad stopped talking for a moment.

"Jesus," his dad muttered, running a hand over his face.

"Sir," Danny tried again. He was being so courageous that Stiles wanted to cry, but his dad just put out a hand and rested it on Danny's shoulder. He fixed him with a measured look.

"I know," he said softly. "My wife, she... it was just this way, with us. I would have done anything for her. She was the love of my life, and I never left her side." His eyes were wet. "And I couldn't ask for more than for my own son to have that, too."

Danny swallowed, and nodded. "I promise. I won't let him down."

Stiles watched the interchange between the two of them with limp, feeble objection. "Dad... Danny?"

His dad let go of Danny's shoulder. He was suddenly looking much more relaxed. "Stiles, you might as well give up now. You're never going to be the one in charge." He shook his head, smiling unapologetically. "I wasn't, either."

Danny, to his credit, didn't laugh, though his own eyes glimmered a little. "Any other rules I should know about, sir?"

His dad looked somewhat reproachful. "I had it all worked out, and then you had to throw the werewolf thing at me."

Stiles cleared his throat and tried a smile. "Well, uh... in that case... how about lunch?"

His dad took about three seconds to cave. "Sodas and sandwiches are in the front seat of my car."

Stiles hurried out to the driveway to get lunch from the sheriff's patrol car, but when he turned, Danny was right beside him.

"I'm sorry," Stiles told him. "About the -- the werewolf thing. I just couldn't lie to --"

Danny interrupted him very slowly, taking Stiles' face in both hands and waiting for him to go quiet before kissing him with utter sincerity. Stiles just stood there and whimpered until he was done.

_"Ku'u lei,”_ Danny whispered, "your father just gave me permission to sleep over at your house. You'll forgive me if I feel anything but amazing."

Stiles stared into his deep brown eyes and swallowed. "That's... the first time I've ever heard you say that aloud."

_"Ku'u lei,”_ Danny said again, stroking his cheek. It was all Stiles could do not to collapse against the side of his dad's car.

"Lunch," he managed.

They brought the sandwiches into the house and unwrapped them on the table. By the time they poured the sodas into glasses and added ice, Stiles' dad had recovered himself.

"So, you're the one who came into the hospital with the injured boy earlier this year."

Stiles watched Danny go still. "Yes, sir."

Stiles' dad poured himself a Coke. Stiles decided now was not the time to complain about the amount of sugar in his dad's drink. He regarded Danny over the rim of his glass. "Am I to take it he... recovered?"

"He did," Danny said steadily. "But eventually he decided being the boyfriend of somebody else's soulmate wasn't worth it."

Stiles' dad snorted. "No. I'd expect not."

"Yeah." Danny gave Stiles an apologetic smile. "It took me way too long to figure that out."

"Okay." His dad took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And... to be honest, boys, I have zero idea what to ask about this werewolf business, so you're going to have to help me out with that."

"It's new for me, too, sir." Danny nodded at Stiles. "He's the expert."

Stiles watched his dad's eyes widen, and he shook his head definitively. "No. Not me. I'm not. Not that there's anything wrong with that, just -- nope, still human here."

"All right." Stiles' dad nodded wearily. "I'm going to count that in the plus column, but you can bet I'll have all kinds of questions for both of you, very soon. That's enough for today. I'm guessing you have another set of parents to talk to today? Stiles, I'll expect you -- at least you -- for dinner." He gestured at the driveway. "Now get out of here."

They scrambled for the Jeep, staring at one another in amazement.

"That was a lot more than I expected," Stiles said. He settled back in the driver's seat and breathed. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Danny agreed faintly. "I, uh, really want to kiss you, but let me just make sure I'm not going to throw up first."

Eventually Stiles was able to dig in the pocket of his shorts for his keys. "You really want me to come meet your mother?"

"And my grandmother," Danny agreed. "My mom's easy. My grandmother's the badass. Although, honestly, between her and your dad, I'm not at all sure who'd win."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for oral sex and rimming. Also, next chapter gets serious.
> 
> -amy

The first thing Stiles realized when he got to Danny's house was that he already knew everything about it. It was even weirder than seeing it through Danny's eyes, because he knew he'd never been there.

"It's not like I dreamed it," he said, climbing out of his Jeep. "I know too much.  I mean, I knew to park on this side of the driveway because your mother will be bringing your sister home from tutoring in a half hour and she'll pull into the garage on the right, next to your grandfather's Buick that hasn't run for six years." He shook his head in amazement. "Is this how it was for you too, at my place?”

"Kind of," said Danny. "I've been watching you for a lot longer, though."

“Wait, does that mean -- holy shit, did you know about werewolves a long time ago?" He poked Danny hard. "Did you?"

_You made Ethan a lot less surprising,_ he admitted. _So I know you don't like tea, but my grandmother will expect you to drink it anyway. She'll give us cookies, at least._

Stiles took off his shoes and put them on the correct shelf in the front hall, knelt down to pet Baxter, who wagged his tail in recognition, and almost called out _aloha_ before he realized what he was doing.

"Your mom's in the middle of a painting on the back deck," he said, smelling the solvent. Danny smiled.  Stiles shook his head. "This is so bizarre."

"They've been hearing about you for a long time," Danny pointed out. "You're really not going to be much of a surprise."

The solvent smell was less intense in the kitchen. He hung back, not wanting to make the assumption that he could just _do_ all the things he knew to do around the house. But the tea was set up on the table by the window, and he knew already the blue cup was his. He knew the woman sitting pouring the tea had one tooth missing in front before she smiled at him.

"Hi," he said. Which was inadequate, but he was pretty sure anything else he tried to say had a good chance of embarrassing Danny.  Danny was doing a reasonable job of not appearing to be too nervous, but Stiles could feel his anxious energy.   This mattered to him.  

_“Tutu,_ this is Stiles.”  He nudged Stiles forward.  “He’s glad to meet you.”

She grinned at him.  Without a trace of an accent, she said, “He’s been a guest here for a long time.  Now he can be welcomed into the family.  Have a seat, kiddo.”

Stiles settled down in the chair across from her, took the blue cup and sipped, trying not to make a face.  Tutu passed him the sugar bowl and a little spoon.

“So what’s traditionally Hawaiian about drinking tea?” Stiles asked.  

She shrugged.  “Not much.  It’s a Japanese custom.  I just like tea.  _Mo’opuna,_ can you grab the cookies off the counter?”  Her hair was long in the back, fastened away from her face in a braid.  When she leaned on her elbow, watching Stiles with interest, the braid slid down across her shoulders.  

“Why’d you cut your hair?” he asked, then stopped, but Tutu just nodded as though she understood.

“It got long enough so it’d get trapped under me when I sat down.  That usually means it’s time for me to cut it off.”  She stirred her tea, watching him.  “Any other questions for me?”

“I think I have kind of the opposite of questions.”  He resisted looking at Danny, sitting down between them with the container of cookies.  “I’m finding out things fast enough just by being here and opening my mouth.”

She nodded again at Stiles, and slid a cup of tea over to Danny.  “There’s no hurry to ask them, _keiki_.  I’m not so old that I won’t be around for a while.”

Stiles felt kind of ashamed when he realized why Danny’s grandfather wasn’t there, and why his grandmother was living at Danny's house in the first place.  “Your, uh.  Your own _uhane hoa._   He’s at the nursing home?”

“Only physically,” she said complacently.  “He’s still with me in all the ways that matter.  He wants you to know he’s very happy for both of you.  Now, if we set up the cards before Cara and your mother get home, we can get away with choosing the game.”

Danny’s mother, as Danny had predicted, was really nice, asking just the right number of questions without making him feel overwhelmed.  Cara was the only one who seemed suspicious of Stiles, but as Danny reassured him, _she’s probably always going to be like that._  

_I’m kind of awkward around kids,_ Stiles said, edging his chair closer to Danny.  

_Cara's kind of awkward around everyone.  But she’s even better with computers than I am, so I don’t worry much about her._

Even so, Stiles was glad when Cara ended up winning the card game, and when he had an opportunity to claim to be bad at them, she said diffidently, “I could give you some pointers.”

_You don’t have to pretend to be bad at games with Cara, Stiles,_ Danny told him as they put the cards away.

Stiles laughed.  “Trust me, I’m not pretending.”

Tutu went to lie down for a nap, but Danny’s mom hugged Stiles and gave Danny a kiss.  “You’re welcome here, Stiles,” she told them, “but I’m not going to worry about Danny if you’re together someplace else.”

Danny looked troubled.  “What about what dad said?”

“You let me handle him,” she said, waving her hand.  “You just appreciate this time you have with one another, while it’s still summer.”

Danny was quiet while they went up to his room.  Stiles dug in the clean laundry basket at the foot of Danny’s bed, handing him his favorite green t-shirt, then absently put the rest away into the right drawers while he waited for Danny to sort things out in his head.  He looked at the photos on Danny’s bulletin board, the drawing he’d made in the fifth grade, the — he stopped.  

“That’s _me,”_ he squeaked, touching the curled edge of the paper.  

Danny sighed and set his pile of clothes down on the bed.

“My dad’s going to give my mom a hard time when he gets home, and it’d be better if I’m not around.  Is it okay if I come for dinner?”

“Yeah, definitely.  My dad said he expected at least me, so…”  He prodded at Danny’s thoughts with a silent query, and watched in distress as several key events from Danny’s past unfolded in his memory.  “Oh.  Yeah.  I can see why you’d guess he’d be unhappy.”  He stifled his anger.  “We can go any time.”

Dinner was more awkward than lunch had been, but they got through it, making pasta and salad and garlic bread in the oven. Stiles' dad leaned in at one point and whispered, "Garlic? That's not a problem...?" but when Stiles rolled his eyes, his dad subsided, muttering something defensive and unintelligible.  Danny smiled bravely and took another bite of pasta, and that was about the worst of it. 

Eventually his dad said, "Stiles, you're on duty for cleanup. I'll be... in the, uh." He gestured vaguely with his thumb in the direction of the rest of the house, away from Stiles' room, and disappeared.

"Subtle," Stiles muttered. He reached under the table and brushed his knuckles against Danny's thigh. _You still hungry?_

_No._

_I didn't even ask if you wanted to stay, after dinner._

Danny picked up his plate, and Stiles', and carried them to the sink. _You could ask, if it would make you feel better._

_Do you need me to do that?_

Danny smiled. _No._

It occurred to Stiles that the kind of silence that existed between him and Danny, while they cleaned up the dishes, wasn't all that silent. On the outside, they were quiet, but there were words being exchanged under the surface.  And, in addition to that, Stiles could hear an undercurrent of thoughts from Danny, beneath the conscious words they were saying.  If he tuned into it, he could hear even more words, a cloud of communication.

Stiles wondered if this was why his dad never talked, because he'd gotten used to silent-talking with his mom and just never learned how important words were after she was gone.

_I think my grandparents do that, too,_ Danny agreed, startling Stiles with a hand on his shoulder.

_I didn't really mean for you to answer that,_ Stiles told him. _I'm not saying I mind, just... maybe I'd need to block you if you're around, now, if I don't want to bug you with everything I'm thinking?_

_You're not bugging me, ku'u lei._ Danny's hand moved to his waist. _Having you in my head is exactly right. And I think it's impossible to block me when I'm touching you._

That made sense, if the chemical explanation of soul bonding was to be believed. Stiles felt the heavy lassitude of Danny's touch wash over him like a heat wave, and he sighed.

"You really want to be here?"

_Stiles,_ Danny said, sounding amused.

"I know, I know, it's a stupid question. I can tell you do. And, um. I think we're done in here." He took a quick look down the hall.

_Your dad said it was okay for me to be here. You don't have to be worried._

He gave up on trying to be subtle and took Danny's hand as he turned off the kitchen light. _I've just never had -- anybody here. Except Scott, and that's definitely different._

_I know. I don't have any expectations._ Danny let Stiles lead him into his bedroom and close the door. _I just want to be close to you._

Stiles looked at the single bed, wishing he could smother his anxious uncertainty. He held on to Danny's hand at they sat. "Sorry it's kind of crowded."

"It's perfect," Danny assured him. "Is there anything you were hoping for? Right now?"

Stiles cleared his throat. "Maybe? I mean... okay, there's something I was wondering about. About the... the pack thing."

Danny nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah, so... you're an Alpha.  I know that means you're in charge. But I'm pretty sure Scott's an Alpha too, even if he doesn't know he is? I mean, he probably does know and he's just not saying anything about it, because he --"

"It's okay, _ku'u lei."_ His hand on Stiles's leg was reassuring. "We'll talk to Scott. What were you wondering?"

"Just, you want... a pack. But with two Alphas, how would you figure out who's in charge? You wouldn't have to... to challenge each other, would you?"

Danny didn't laugh. "From what I understand, one of us would assert dominance over the other. If Scott's not claiming Alpha status, that should be pretty straightforward."

Stiles chewed on a finger, eyeing Danny. "Assert dominance."

"It's a little more than a symbolic gesture. I think it's harder to explain than to show, but you got a sense of it across the table at lunch."

He wrinkled his nose. "You'd threaten to fuck him into submission?"

"No," Danny said calmly. "I'd demand he give it up to me. It's not a threat. It's just a requirement."

It was a little ridiculous how much the calm confident menacing thing was turning him on, but he was pretty sure Danny wasn't doing it specifically for that reason. He watched Danny's eyes track his hand, moving between his legs to squeeze his cock.

"And me?" he asked.

_What about you?_

“You’re going to… require it of me?”

Danny leaned over and kissed him gently.  _No.  I’m going to fuck you into submission._

“Oh,” he said faintly.  “I — uh.”

Danny’s smile was a little sad.  _I wish I could say we can go at your pace, but if I’m going to have the backup I need, it’s going to have to happen pretty soon._

“That’s okay,” Stiles said quickly.  “You can do that.  I mean, I think it would be — really okay.”

_You’ve never done anything like that, though.  It might be…_ He stopped.

“You think I’m not going to like it?”

Danny shrugged, looking uncomfortable.  _Not all guys do._

“But you do,” he pressed.  “Don’t bother telling me you don’t.  I know you do.”

Now Danny huffed.  “You can’t extrapolate from one data point.”

“Yeah, tell that to all the other guys who like getting fucked in the ass.”  He glared at Danny.  “I thought you said you weren’t going to hold back from me anymore.  Eight _years_ of —“

“Fine,” he groaned.  “But you’re not going to convince me to let you jump into it without a little prior experience.  Come on.  Pants off.”

Stiles kind of felt like he should object, given the way Danny was pushing him around, except for the fact that he was getting exactly what he wanted — and Danny, leaning over him to kiss him again and again as he tugged his khakis off, wasn’t doing anything to calm him down.  Danny discarded Stiles’ boxers along with his pants on the floor beside his bed, pressing him firmly onto his back, his cock jutting straight out from his body.  

_You’re going to tell me to stop,_ Danny told Stiles, _if you don’t like any of it._

Stiles squirmed, seeking Danny’s elusive touch. “I’m going to like it.”

_Promise me,_ he insisted.

_I promise!_ He captured Danny’s hand, bringing it down to rest on his inner thigh.  _Jesus fuck, you’re obnoxious._

Danny’s other hand landed on Stiles’ other thigh, spreading them open.  His thumbs rested on the taut muscle beneath his balls.  It wasn’t like Stiles had never touched himself there.  In the last couple of days since the potential for him to have sex with a guy had gone from almost nil to pretty damn likely, he hadn’t had any reason to touch himself at _all._ But now, Danny’s magical, dexterous hands were eliciting one very intense, specific desire.  He felt his entire body quivering with it.  He drew in a sharp breath as Danny’s thumbs brushed across his hole.  

“Oh my god,” he moaned.  “Just… put something in there already.  I don’t even care what.  Anything.”

_Patience._ The same gentle motion again, almost too light to feel, except Stiles could feel _everything,_ inside and around and in his neglected cock and _god,_ he just wanted to be _filled_ with — he had no idea what.  

_One finger?  Please._

_Except you really need lubrication for that, ku’u lei.  I’m asking you to relax, and trust me._

He wanted to laugh.  Relax?  But then Danny took his cock in his mouth, and his tense vehemence melted away in one low moan.  

After that, the motion of Danny’s thumbs, circling and rubbing and coaxing him to _open up_ had a distinctly focused edge.  With each thrust of his cock into Danny’s mouth, he felt the pressure, not only on the opening, but through the muscles of his pelvis, through the connective tissue lifting his balls up to lie flush with his body.  He choked on a gasp.

_That’s it,_ Danny encouraged.  Stiles could feel the saliva dripping down from Danny’s mouth around the base of his cock, running down between his cheeks and pooling in the center of his ass.  

_Now,_ he thought, in excruciating, pleading desire, _now you can be inside me, now now now…_

Only Danny didn’t.  He released Stiles’ cock from his mouth, letting it slap wetly against Stiles’ belly as Stiles whined his distress, and spread Stiles’ cheeks with the flat of both hands.  

_Don’t freak out,_ Danny told him, and _licked_ across his opening with one broad stroke of his tongue.  

Stiles muffled his shocked cry.  It did freak him out, a little, to feel the sudden, slick intrusion — but mostly he just wanted Danny to do it again, right away, and never to stop.  _Oh god oh god oh god yes._

It seemed to take forever for Danny to make another pass.  Stiles tracked every movement of that tongue, across his cock, around, beneath, and finally _inside —_ he found himself making short, desperate pleading noises even before Danny touched down. 

_You’re killing me,_ he thought, his focus fragmenting as Danny took his cock in one hand.  _I am fucking dying here.  What are you trying to do?_

_I’m trying to get you to relax._   Danny’s other hand rested on his taut stomach, easing him back down onto the bed. _And trust me._

It seemed like an impossible request, but he made an effort, slowing his breathing and forcing himself to release the clenching grip of his ass as Danny licked him.  It felt too good for him to be able to worry about the _ew_ factor; that, and the undeniable pleasure that Danny was clearly taking in what he was doing.  

_Na’u ‘oe,_ Danny thought tenderly, stroking into him with deliberate, methodical thrusts of his tongue.  _Aloha no au la ‘oe, no kau a kau._

Whatever Stiles had thought he’d wanted was now irrelevant to his aching cock and the trembling pulse inside him.  He was drenched with slippery saliva, spasming helplessly around Danny’s tongue, but it so clearly wasn’t enough.

_More,_ he begged.  

Danny returned to his cock, letting his lips slide over the head.  He was resisting any distinct rhythm, but Stiles was pretty sure it wasn’t going to matter pretty soon.  

_I’m going to come._

_Not yet,_ Danny told him, and Stiles whined aloud.  _Soon, ku’u lei._ He felt Danny’s cheek resting against his thigh, his breath on his skin.  _Do you have any idea how incredible you feel?_

That unbelievable concept was distracting enough that he almost missed the entry of a single one of Danny’s fingers.  He was so slick and so swollen that it was nearly too subtle — until that finger pressed in and upward, and he cried out.  _Oh, fuck, more —_

This time Danny didn’t seem to want to deny him.  The digit slid out, to be joined by a second, and though the stretch was mildly uncomfortable, the pressure inside him was so welcome that all he could do was spread his legs wider, sobbing in relief.

_Now,_ Danny urged.  _Now, you can come._

It was immediate and almost more intense than he could bear, but the thrusts of Danny’s fingers inside him were too good to avoid.  He chased each contraction, thrusting back to take Danny deeper, harder, feeling the burn of the intrusion and still _needing_ more.  

By the time he collapsed back onto his pillow, sweaty and panting with effort, Danny was climbing on top of him, kneeling over his chest and unzipping his shorts.  

“I can’t wait,” he said, sounding more desperate than apologetic, “god, Stiles, I just need to — is this okay?”

Stiles had no words for how okay it was, other than to just say _yes, yes, please_ , and to reach for Danny, wanting to feel him close, as close as he could get.  Danny was jerking himself quickly, leaning over him, but Stiles’ slick skin was obviously compelling.  When Stiles pulled Danny down on top of him, Danny cried out, spilling in thick bursts over his stomach.  

They clutched at each other, panting and kissing and shaking in unison.  Stiles decided not to be weirded out by the earthy taste of himself on Danny’s lips.

“See,” Stiles said at last.  “I told you so.  I liked it.”

Danny burst out laughing.  _You did,_ he admitted.  _More than I thought you would._

“You were right, too.”  He supported Danny, holding him on one elbow.  “It was intense, even with all that, uh —“

_Spit?_ Danny suggested.

“The preparation and relaxation.  I definitely needed that.  All of it.”

_Thank you, ku’u lei, for trusting me._   He kissed Stiles again, awash in relief and satisfaction. _Next time, it’ll be easier._

They were both relaxed enough to be comfortable wound around one another in Stiles’ single bed, not bothering with much more than a very basic cleanup and draping the covers haphazardly over both of them.  Danny abandoned Stiles’ single pillow, resting his head on his own lean arm, and smiled drowsily at Stiles’ mumbling noises.

_Sleep_ ,Danny implored, and it might have been a plea.  Regardless, they both slid into unconsciousness together, Danny’s arm draped possessively over Stiles’ body.  Each twinge inside him made Stiles feel more grateful.  

_“Na’u ‘oe,”_ he murmured.  “Is that right?”

_That is exactly right, Stiles,_ Danny assured him.  _I’m yours, and you’re mine._


	9. Chapter 9

_He was going to school.  He was going to school, just like the big boys, and his mom had bought him a new backpack, one with a big pocket for his notebook and a smaller pocket for his pencils and gloves and the toys he wasn’t supposed to have at school._

_Stiles, she said, crouching down in front of him, this is your lunchbox.  Put it in your backpack, so you won’t lose it.  You’ll be hungry by the time lunch happens at school._

_His lunchbox was new, too, and it was shaped like a fire truck, with one zippered compartment for drinks and one for food.  His mom had put a brownie inside, wrapped in plastic wrap, but he wasn’t allowed to eat it until he was done with his sandwich and his cheese stick and all his grapes, even the squashed ones.  His lunchbox was cool — much too cool to go inside his backpack, where nobody would see it._

_So he didn’t put it in there.  He carried it onto the bus, and it rode beside him on the bench seat while he looked out the window, watching his new school come into view.  He ran into the school with the rest of the kindergarteners, where they were brought to their new classrooms by second graders._

_When his teacher, Mrs. Whitmer, called on all the kindergarteners to tell whether they were having hot lunch or had brought their lunch, Stiles burst into tears.  It wasn’t so much that he was hungry, although he was.  It was that he knew his mother would be so disappointed that he’d lost his brand-new lunchbox on the first day of school.  He couldn’t stop crying long enough to explain what was wrong, or to ask about where his lunchbox might be._

_But the boy next to him tugged on his arm, his face serious.  You don’t have to cry.  I can help you find it._

_He lost something, the boy told the teacher.  His lunchbox._

_Would you like to look in the lost-and-found? she asked Stiles, and he nodded._

_They walked together, him and the boy, Danny, to the school office.  The woman in the office showed them the divided box for all the things that people would leave behind during the year.  It was almost empty, but even if it hadn’t been, it would have been easy to spot the firetruck lunchbox right on top._

_Stiles picked up the lunchbox and ran all the way back to class.  But after snack, he found Danny and told him thank you, the way his mother had taught him, and had also hugged him, because he did that with everybody._

_Stiles._

“I’m hugging you,” he murmured.  “My mom said it was okay, if I meant it.”

_Ku’u lei, you don’t have to stop hugging me.  I love it._

“Love it,” Stiles agreed sleepily.  Then he blinked until the world made sense again.  

Danny Mahealani was not in the middle of Mrs. Whitmer’s kindergarten classroom.  He was in Stiles’ bed, and Stiles was wrapped around him with the tenacious full-body grasp of an octopus.  It didn’t seem to be bothering Danny that they were both a little sweaty, nor that Stiles was hard and pressed up against Danny’s thigh. 

Danny’s eyes were still closed, but as Stiles focused on his face, they opened.  He wore the most amazing expression.  

_You slept a long time,_ he told Stiles.   _I thought maybe I’d be able to see your dreams, sleeping with you here in your bed, but your mind was quiet._

Stiles sat back, feeling suddenly self-conscious.  He ran a hand through his hair.  “Sorry if I kept you awake.  I’m kind of an active sleeper.”

_I don’t think I’ve ever slept better, actually.  I woke up and I felt…_ Danny’s smile widened, making Stiles smile too.   _Well.  That, too, but — really, just amazing.  So I’ve been lying here watching you._

Stiles looked around himself, wondering if he was going to get away with leaning over and kissing this hot guy in his bed, first thing in the morning, and — yes, it did appear that he was going to.  He chuckled into Danny’s mouth.   _Not exactly the most exciting activity._

_I’m a lot more accustomed to watching you while you’re awake,_  he admitted.   _I missed seeing your brain do its thing._

It was a little distracting, trying to listen to Danny’s words while Danny was running his hands over Stiles’ body.  He picked flecks of dried come off Danny’s chest.   _My brain?_

_Yeah,_  Danny thought.   _Kind of my favorite activity._

Stiles laughed.  “Are you saying you’d rather eavesdrop on my thoughts than do this?” 

_Give me a little time to reach a conclusion on that one.  I need more data._   He kissed him again. _More than one night’s worth, anyway._

“You think we could do that again?”  The sensation of their hard dicks lined up together, nudging against one another’s stomachs, gave him all kinds of ideas.  “The sleeping together thing?  ‘Cause that was — ohhhh.”

Danny had reached in between them and tucked Stiles’ cock into the warm, sweat-moist channel between his thighs.  He watched Stiles’ expression with pleased anticipation.  

_There’s all kinds of things we can do, ku’u lei._

Stiles thrust forward automatically, muffling a strangled curse.   _You want this?  From me?_

_Equal opportunity lover, definitely.  It’s not the act, it’s the intent behind it.  You could hold me down and fuck me all morning and I’d still be the Alpha wolf._

“Oh my god,” Stiles whimpered, thrusting harder.  “And yes please.”

Danny definitely seemed to be appreciating his actions.  Each time he nudged into the space between his taut muscled legs, he could feel Danny’s hunger growing, and the images of what Stiles might do to him were better than porn.  He came suddenly, grinding desperately into the wetness left behind, and not even Danny’s snarl could have stifled his enjoyment.

“Well,” he gasped, kneeling back on trembling legs, “that was totally rude of me.”

Danny reached around and rested a hand on Stiles’ ass.  The action had new meaning to Stiles, and he felt himself respond.  

_I’m pretty certain that was exactly what I wanted you to do,_  Danny said.   _You're going to have to let me work through all the fantasies of the last couple years, one at a time, all right?_

Stiles nodded emphatically.  “Something tells me I’m going to like all of them.”  He glanced down at Danny’s twitching cock.  “You, uh.  Have any particular fantasies involving me in this position?”

Danny laughed breathlessly, relaxing back onto Stiles’ pillow.  The image was kind of too perfect to be real.  Stiles just sat there for several moments, admiring him.  

_A bunch,_ Danny assured him.   _You asking me to pick?  Or were you planning to do one of the things you’re already thinking about?_

Stiles had to laugh in response.  “Yeah, I guess it’s kind of pointless for me to to claim not to have some ideas of my own.”  He brushed a hand along Danny’s thigh, suddenly overwhelmed.   _Anything?  Anything I want?_

_Yes,_  Danny promised him.   _I know you well enough to know you’re not going to ask for something I wouldn’t want to give you._

It was tempting.  Stiles could feel the memory of Danny’s fingers, driving into him last night.  He was pretty sure he had enough strength in his legs to just kneel down over Danny, right where he lay… Danny huffed out a startled groan.

“Stiles,” he protested.  “We can’t do that without lube.  Do you have lube?  No.”

“I could have lube,” Stiles retorted, stung.  Danny raised an eyebrow.  “Okay… so I don’t.  I  _could,_  though.”

“Okay.”  Danny already sounded apologetic.  “Come here.”  He beckoned Stiles to lie down on top of him, and Stiles complied, somewhat reluctantly.  “You know I really want to do that with you?  As in I’ve been waiting for years for that exact thing?”

“That’s kind of fucked up,” Stiles muttered.

“So what if I get my clothes on and do my morning workout, and on the way I’ll stop at home and —“

“Werewolves need to work out?”

“— and pick some up,” he concluded patiently.  “If you’re not completely sick of me yet.”

“That’s a joke, right?”  Stiles was unable to suppress his grin.  He groped between Danny’s legs, taking hold of his still half-hard cock.  “You mean you’re going to make me wait?  Or can I still enjoy this now, before you fuck me into submission later?”

Danny was already laughing.  “God, I really —“  He took Stiles’ face in his hands and kissed him.  

“You  _really?”_  Stiles teased, poking him.  “Come on.  You really  _what?”_

“I really,” said Danny, his mirth subsiding into a resigned sigh, “love you.”

Stiles waited a beat too long, then looked away, chuckling uneasily.  “I bet you’d say that to anybody holding your dick and begging you to fuck him.”

Danny shook his head.  “No.  I wouldn’t.”

Before Stiles could pull away, Danny put both arms around him again, coaxing Stiles’ arms to do the same.  Stiles lay as still as he could on top of Danny, trying to calm his breathing.  

_It’s not something you can force, ku’u lei._ Danny’s hand was leaving a tingling wake on the back of his neck.  

_Yeah, but… this has got to suck for you, right?  To have this much and to still not get —_

“Hey.”  His voice was soft, but it stopped Stiles as easily as a shout.   _You’re not going to convince me that you, inviting me into your bed, letting me love you, is anything but good._

Stiles nodded quickly.  “Okay.  Yeah.  It — it is good.  It’s really, really good.”

_So we’re on, for later._

He nodded again, silently this time, but it was enough.  He wasn’t scared or worried or ambivalent about that idea in any way, and Danny could tell, and that was plenty.

_And yeah.  This werewolf, anyway, needs to exercise.  You want to come with me?  I promise I won’t go too fast._

“Now you’re just pissing me off on purpose.”  He wiped his eyes on the sheet before dropping his feet to the floor, flexing his toes.  “I can totally keep up with Scott.  I’m sure you won’t give me any trouble.”

That wasn’t anywhere close to the truth, but he wasn’t going to make Danny feel like a freak, no matter what.  He pulled on socks and tied his shoes, watching Danny put on his running shorts and green shirt with hungry bemusement.  There was no point in trying to hide it, because Danny could tell he was looking — and Danny didn’t mind it, anyway.  

_Although you might want to keep your eyes on the road while we’re running,_ Danny suggested, patting him on the back before heading out the door.   _Unless you really want to trip over things._

It was too early to be really warm, but Stiles knew he’d rather be cold initially, so he didn’t bother with a jacket.  The streets of his neighborhood were mostly empty, other than the usual dog-walkers and occasional other jogger.  It felt good to be moving, breathing the scent of the dew before the sun burned it off the grass.  

_I have to admit, this was one of my fantasies, too,_  Danny told him.

_What?_   Stiles was startled.   _Going running with me in the morning?_

_Yeah.  Ordinary things.  You know._

They crossed the street to the corner light at Lincoln.   _You could have asked me to do that. I mean, that would have been, like, an ordinary friend thing to do._

Danny gave him an odd look while they waited for the light to turn, scuffing the curb with the toes of their sneakers.   _We were never ordinary friends, Stiles.  I couldn’t have been that with you.  You would have found out about the soulbond right away._

Stiles wondered later if his preoccupation with thinking about that question was why he didn’t hear them coming.  It could have been any of the things they’d been talking about, anyway — just the idea that Danny was running across town to pick up lube to use on his ass would have been enough.  He spent enough time mired in self-recrimination about the whole thing, later.  In the moment, everything went too quickly for him to keep it all in order.  

He knew something picked him up and threw him against the sidewalk, and he stayed there for a while because he hit his head, and the ground seemed a lot less spinny and just about the right amount of flat for him while he waited to recover.  It was clear that he might as well toss his Nike trainers out the window, because _fuck,_ werewolves were  _fast._   There were at least three of them, but it could just as well have been nine or two dozen for all the clarity he was getting.  

There was also a lot of snarling, and it wasn’t the sexy kind.  It was loud and definitely meant business, and the degree to which Danny was snarling back made him wonder what the hell he was doing, putting himself in a position to be helpless beneath a creature like that.  He managed to fumble an arm over his neck and whimper Danny’s name — and a hell of a lot of good that was going to do — so he supposed he still trusted him, even in the midst of everything.

He was pretty sure there was conversation happening under the snarling, but he wasn’t able to make any of it out.  The one time he attempted to roll to one side and sit up to see better, he got knocked over by something heavy, which might have been a foot or a bag or a body.  It definitely left a big bruise on the side of his ribs, but by the time Scott and Allison found him, it had spread into an undefined black-and-blue mass.  

They didn’t find him there.  Stiles didn’t know exactly how much time elapsed between the moment he heard the snarling begin and when he found himself standing alone and bleeding on the sidewalk, his heart thundering in his chest, but it was almost certainly less than the time he took to stagger behind the madrone shrub and pull his cell phone out of his pocket.  His thumbs were trembling badly enough that he had to write the text three times.  

_They took Danny.  I’m on Harris and Coulter in the bushes outside a white house.  No pain yet but bleeding bad._

He followed that up a little while later, as his breathing became more labored,  _Think I broke a rib.  I’ll call your mom if I don’t hear from you._

It took him a little bit longer to realize that  _alone_  had a completely different feel to it than it had a few days ago.  

_Danny?_  he called, grasping for their bond, but it wasn’t there.  He didn’t know enough to be able to tell the difference between blocked and  _missing,_  but — 

Stiles wasn’t going to panic.  He’d been through worse than this.  He had, and he’d lived through it.  They were going to get through this, too.

_Danny?_  

There was birdsong and wind and far-away traffic.  He coughed, putting a careful hand on his ribs through his shirt, which still weren’t hurting, but his fingers squelched through his shirt and made it stick there.  

_Danny,_  he said again, trying not to sound desperate,  _I’m — I’m going to get you back.  We’re coming, okay?  Just — hold on._

It was a long, long wait for Scott and Allison to arrive.  He faded away into half-consciousness for a good portion of it.  When he began, he was sitting on the prickly grass, but when they found him they had to lift him under his arms to help him stand.  His cheeks were coated with salty tears.

“Danny,” he said, his voice coming out slurred.  He moistened dry lips.

“Shh,” Allison said, low and urgent.  “We’re going to try to come up with a story for the EMTs.  They’re already on their way, and I don’t think they’re going to let us stick around.  Stiles, what  _happened?”_

“Danny,” he said again, and, to his complete annoyance, began to cry.  

Scott sat with him until the ambulance got there, playing good cop while Allison bullied words out of him.  Stiles complied as best as he could with her demands.  He was pretty sure he had a concussion.  He was pretty sure there had been three of them.  He was pretty sure Danny was dead.

“You don’t know that,” Scott soothed.  

“I can’t  _hear him,_ ”Stiles told him between painful sobs — because  _now_  there was pain, and it was bad pain, complete with nausea and twisted, vicious sensations between his ribs, and none of it mattered, because it had been way too long of a wait since the last time he’d heard Danny.  They didn’t try to console him again.

The EMTs were as businesslike as they could be, but even Stiles could tell they were fucking terrified.  The woman asked him, “The claw marks on your —“ before she was roughly excused by her partner, hurrying him into the back of the ambulance.  Stiles spent the ride to the hospital staring at the wall and repeating Danny’s name at odd intervals, into the silence of his head.  

Scott’s mother met them at the emergency room entrance, dismissing the EMTs with curt politeness.  Scott and Allison appeared again shortly thereafter, watching him,  obviously distressed.

“He doesn’t look so good,” Scott told his mom.  She unwrapped the bandage from around his ribs, her lips pressed together.

“Stiles,” she said, finding his wrist with her cool fingers.  “Your dad’s on the other side of town, but he’s coming.  You’re not in danger.  We need his permission to treat you, but I can give you something until he arrives.”

_Something,_  he said.   _What would you give me?_

When she didn’t answer, he couldn’t figure out why at first, but then he tried the question again, and it came out his mouth instead of in his head.

“For the pain,” she clarified.

He was pretty sure there was nothing that could touch the pain he was feeling, but he swallowed and nodded, and let her put a needle in his arm.  

After that, things felt a lot weirder, but Stiles kept calling out for Danny as best as he could.  He wanted to apologize for those times when he said it aloud by mistake, but nobody was attempting to tell him to be quiet.

_Danny,_  he said, and  _ku’u lei,_ sometimes.  They did feel almost equivalent, in his head.

When his dad arrived, looking predictably more pissed than terrified, Scott’s mom took him aside and spoke to him before he could ask Stiles anything.  He made an effort to keep his eyes open and focused when his dad came to the gurney, accompanied by the nurse anesthetist.  

“They’re gonna take you and fix you up,” he said, putting a hand on Stiles’ arm.  “And I’ll be here when you come out, okay?”

He wanted to demand his dad go looking for Danny, to  _bring him back,_  dammit, but that kind of demand obviously wasn’t going to help.  Scott was going to have to take care of that end of things, and he’d involve his dad if he needed to.  So Stiles nodded, the push of morphine taking him under at last, and did his best to settle himself in that silent corner of his mind that had been reserved for Danny.  He hoped, if Danny came looking for him while he was gone, he might manage to be found waiting there.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never tried to write an episode of Teen Wolf before, but this was kind of fun. I think I’ve decided this story went AU somewhere in the middle of the first half of season 3, so there is some flexibility around the twins being Alphas and who in the Alpha pack is still alive. 
> 
> If you are at all concerned about the outcome of this story, here’s my big red flashing alert that I’m going for a happy ending with no major character death, so you can just enjoy the ride. 
> 
> I’d appreciate comments on any obvious continuity errors, if they leap out at you; I think my readers know this series a lot better than I do. More plotty stuff to come! 
> 
> -amy

 

Stiles decided being a patient in the emergency room was a lot easier than waiting around to find out if somebody else was going to get better.  He also discovered he could make his dad go away by telling the nurse he was feeling dizzy. He didn't ever actually feel dizzy, but unlike treating pain or nausea, treating dizziness didn’t require any additional medication, just quiet and rest. Stiles appreciated both.  In any case, it was convenient to be able to manufacture a quick exit strategy.  Because of all things, Stiles really didn’t want his dad to look at him closely enough to realize just how much he hated himself.

Stiles knew he didn’t have to explain why that was, to anybody, but he found himself doing it anyway, justifying in his head exactly why he loathed himself so much.  It was like he could pretend he was still talking to Danny, even if Danny would never hear him.  

There were so many reasons.  One big one was:  _I hate myself for not being a werewolf._  Because if he’d asked Danny for the bite, maybe Stiles could have helped him stay alive. Never mind Stiles had never wanted to be a werewolf.  _It’s selfish of me to get to choose that, when Danny didn't have a choice,_  he thought. _I could have just gone for it, and it might have made a difference._ “Maybe” and “might have” were apparently enough to make him hate himself.

And, sharper and more stinging:  _I hate myself for not getting to be his pack._  He had to admit that one didn't make much sense, because even though Danny had been in charge of deciding when he was ready to be, they’d been on their way to do that very thing when he’d been taken.  They could hardly have moved much faster than they had. 

Except that Stiles knew he himself was an exceptionally persuasive, pushy bastard. He  _could_  have had it.  If he'd begged for it.  If he hadn't been willing to be distracted by Danny's fingers and his goddamn tongue and every kind of warm wonderful sensation of his body, he could already be pack.

He especially hated himself for being so oblivious for all these years.  He hadn't really _seen_ Danny, had he?  Not once. Danny had been right there next to him since kindergarten, and Stiles had squandered it.  And now he was never going to have the chance to find out what it felt like to be in love with his own soulmate.  From the outside, it had looked pretty damn amazing.

There were other little things, too, but none of them made him cringe and wince like the certainty that he'd failed Danny. In so many ways, this had been his foolproof opportunity to not be a fuckup for once -- and he'd blown it, anyway.   He hated himself for that most of all.

 _Danny?_  he whispered into the stark silence, but it was barely an attempt. If Danny could have heard him, he would have responded. Which meant that Danny couldn't.

He knew Scott and Allison were likely still out in the waiting room.  They’d waited for however long it had taken the ER doctors to fix the things inside him that had been broken, and they were probably still waiting. He knew he wasn't going to be able to avoid everybody forever, but avoiding Scott and Allison felt more painful than avoiding his dad.  He’d been avoiding his dad for so long, it was almost a habit.  Like not touching Danny.  Stiles breathed through his nose and stopped himself from crying, again.  It hurt his ribs too much.

“Stiles?”

He looked up, because the speaker wasn’t his dad, nor Scott’s mom, nor any of the nurses.  It was a kid’s voice.  He blinked into eyes identical to Danny’s.

“Cara,” he said, his mouth dry.  

She edged into the room, brushing against the curtain, and tugged it closed behind her.

“The police came to our house.  They told us that Danny’s missing.”

He struggled to sit up, holding the inadequate hospital gown around his chest.  “You know, I don’t think kids are allowed back —“

“I know where he is.”  

He stared at her.  “You — what?  How?  Did he contact you?”

She held up the satchel she was carrying.  “No, but I can track his phone, using the cell finder app on his computer.”

Stiles made himself relax and tried not to let his crushing disappointment overwhelm his good sense.  This was good.  This was good news.  “Did you tell the police?”

Cara hesitated.  She looked small and out of place beside the blood pressure monitor and the IV drip.  “I… thought you should know first.  I mean, you can tell your dad if you want, that’s okay, but… you’re his  _uhane hoa._   And he’s my brother.  And… no offense to your dad, but the police don’t have all that great a track record, you know?”

Stiles stifled a laugh.  That would hurt even more than crying.  “I won’t tell him you said that.  I don’t — I mean, thanks for coming to me, really, but I’m just a —“  He caught himself before he said  _human._   “A kid, you know?”

“Yeah, but together, you can do stuff.”  Cara unpacked the computer onto the edge of the gurney, opening it.  “I’ve seen it.  My grandparents… when they were together, it was like they were Mr and Mrs Incredible or something.”

 _That’s because they were mated._   Stiles wasn’t going to explain the way that being fucked would change things, not to a girl who couldn’t be much older than twelve.  He shifted to make more room for the laptop, wincing a little.  “Uh, there’s no cell access or wifi back here.”

“I got into the hospital’s secure connection.”  She was typing in Danny’s username.  

“You know Danny’s passwords?” he had to ask.  “Sorry, I just — I’ve never had a sibling, but I don’t know too many people who would give their sister access to their computer.”

She snorted.  “He didn’t  _give_  me access.”

“Oh, yeah, he said you were kind of awesome at this stuff.”  

“Well, in this case, it’s not like I had to work all that hard.  Danny’s smart about computers, but he’s pretty stupid about you.”

Stiles was a little embarrassed by the rush of sentimentality he felt, watching her tap S-T-I-L-E-S into the password box.  “Oh, that’s… yeah.  Pretty stupid for a password.”

“I can’t stay very long.  My mom thinks I’m at the library.”  She tipped the computer toward him.  Stiles looked at the blinking dot on the map of Beacon Hills with mounting anxiety.  

“He’s there?”

“His phone is, anyway.  But you can’t  _feel_  him?”  He shook his head.  She nodded, looking as unhappy as he felt.  “He could be blocking you.”

“But why would he do that?” Stiles realized his voice was rising, and he dropped down to a whisper, watching the feet walk by in the corridor outside his curtained room.  “If he could, he’d tell me where he was, right?”

“I don’t know.”  She was focused on the computer again, moving rapidly through keystrokes.  “I’ll email you a screenshot of this.”  Stiles spelled out his email address for her.  “Do you know what you’re going to do now?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted.  “But I could, I don’t know, text you when I figure it out?”

“My parents won’t let me have a cell phone yet.  But you could email Danny.  I’ll be watching his account at home.”

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, feeling exhausted already.  “Can you believe I don’t even know his email address?”

Cara gave him a small smile.  “He’s been trying  _not_  to be your friend for ever.”

“But you know about me anyway?”

“Yeah, but you’re pretty much all he talks about.  Even when he was dating other guys.  I mean, you’re  _Stiles.”_

It was too bizarre for him to deal with.  “Thank you,” was all he could say.  

She nodded, packing up the computer.  “I’ll be home.  My parents are freaking out, especially my dad.  I think my grandmother’s the only one who’s staying calm.”

“I’ll email, as soon as I know anything at all, I promise.”

He remembered what Danny had said about Cara being suspicious of him, and he didn’t attempt to hug her, but she waved as she slipped out.  He took a few minutes to lean back on the elevated slope of his bed and close his eyes, trying to think.  Then he rang the nurses’ bell.

“Can I get you something?” the nurse asked him.

“Yeah.  My dad.  And Scott and Allison, and Mrs. McCall, if she’s not busy.”

She looked a little surprised.  “That’s a lot of people all at once.”

“Yeah, well…”  He sighed.  “I think I’m going to need all of them.”

* * *

 

Scott’s mom was held up with another patient, but she told the rest of them to go ahead and she’d talk to them when her shift was over.  Once he explained to his dad what Cara had said, he was immediately in action, getting Stiles access to a laptop with wifi so he could bring up the screenshot of Danny’s phone’s location.  It wasn’t far out of town, but from the GPS satellite view, it looked like it was in one of a series of abandoned buildings surrounded by wooded land.

“They’re going to hear police cars coming,” Scott said.  “Any kind of cars.”

“And if they leave, they might not take Danny’s phone with them.  We’ve got one shot at this.”  His dad looked grim.  “You said this is Danny’s ex-boyfriend?”

“And his brother, probably, but some adults as well.  I don’t know who else is involved.” 

“I want to go,” Stiles announced.

His dad made an explosive noise.  “Absolutely not!”

Even Scott looked at Stiles doubtfully.  “Dude, you can barely walk.  They did serious damage to you.”

“Yeah, and you can fix it.”  He grabbed Scott’s hand.  “Come on.  I’ve seen you do that.  It’s not like I’m at death’s door, here.  A couple broken ribs —“

“Stiles,  _no!”_   His dad put his hand on top of Stiles’ with an outraged shake.  “You don’t get to make this decision.”

“Dad.”  He didn’t even need to try to put on his best pleading look; it was all he could do to get the words out.  “If this were mom, stuck in a building somewhere, could you stay home?  Anyway, I’m safer with you and Scott and Crossbow McAwesome than I am here in this hospital.  And if Danny is still… there are things I can do for him.  I mean, things nobody else can —”  He stopped at the expression on his dad’s face.  

Allison was doing a piss-poor job of not smiling.  “Scott can take care of the broken ribs, Sheriff.  And Stiles could wear a bulletproof vest and wait in the car.”

“No, I could not!” Stiles retorted.  But his dad was looking at Scott.

“Can you do that?”

Scott shook off his apparent paralysis.  “Uh — I think so?  Maybe?”

His dad didn’t look happy, but he wasn’t yelling anymore.  “Fine.  If you can get Melissa to give you a clean bill of health, and I’m talking one hundred percent, no damage… I’ll consider it.”  He pointed a finger at at Stiles.  “You are not going  _anywhere_  near that building.”  He swiveled his finger toward Allison.  “And you aren’t coming with us without permission from your father.”

She nodded, already heading for the door.  “Got it.”

“Whatever, okay.”  As soon as his dad was gone, Stiles turned his look on Scott, tugging irritably on the sensors attached to his chest and flicking the O2 saturation monitor from his finger.  “Come on, do the thing.  Whatever you have to do.  I’m ready.”

Scott grimaced, putting his hand on Stiles’ chest.  “I’m sorry; I don’t think this is going to feel very good.”

Stiles managed not to scream or throw up by focusing on the image of Danny’s cell phone, still charged and on, waiting for him less than twenty miles away.  He might not be able to see Danny, might not be able to rely on the pseudo-mystical quality of their bond, but the phone, at least, was something he could be certain of.   _He’s there.  And if he’s not anymore, Scott can track him from there._

When Scott was done, they were both sweating, but Stiles was able to take a deep breath without pain.  His nurse arrived seconds later, looking alarmed.  

“Stiles, you can’t take off your monitors.”

“My dad’s taking me home,” he said, swinging his legs over the bed with a little too much enthusiasm.  “He went to, you know, sign that against medical advice thing.  Do you know where my clothes are?”

Stiles found himself peppering the silence with more  _Danny?_  inquiries.  Maybe it wasn’t rational to feel more hopeful just because of the cell phone being so close, but he did, along with a greater sense of urgency.  He gave Scott a cautious smile, threading their way through the corridor to find his mother.  

“Things are happening,” he said.  

“Things are always happening around here,” Scott agreed.  “I could do with a little more not happening.”

Scott’s mom gave him an exasperated cursory inspection.  “You’re fine,” she said, and shot Scott a reproachful glance.  “Your doing?”

“They have a lead on Danny’s location,” Scott said quickly.  “I had to do it.  And I’m fine.  It wasn’t so bad.”

“The two of you,” she began, shaking her head, then stopped.  “Just — I’m reminding you of this, someday, when you have kids who are trying to run headlong into the street?”

Stiles slid an arm around Scott and kissed him loudly on the cheek.  “Trust me, Mrs. McCall, if we decide to have kids together, you’ll be the first to know.  Well, the third.”

They met Allison at the door.  She was carrying a suspiciously lumpy bag.  “My dad’s on call if we need backup.  And you do know your dad would never let me do this if he weren’t dangerously short on deputies right now?”

“He might not let you do it anyway,” Stiles warned her.  “Sounds like he’s planning to let you babysit me in the car.  Which, fuck that.”

“Can I say something about hell having no fury like a soulmate scorned?” she said brightly.

“You could,” Stiles said back in the same tone, “but you might not like the results.”

His dad was briefing two other officers beside their patrol car.  He didn’t look at any of the teenagers as they approached, and when he was done, he came back and climbed into his own without speaking.  They glanced uneasily at one another before climbing in behind him.  Stiles sat in the front, poking at the silent police monitor.

“I want you to know I don’t feel okay about this,” his dad announced.  

“You know I could have just brought it to Scott and Allison,” Stiles said.  “We’ve been handling this stuff for a long —“

“I don’t think I want to hear about that, Stiles.”  His dad sounded a little panicked. Stiles closed his mouth, watching him lean back in his seat and sigh.  “You guys are  _kids._   Worse, Stiles, you’re  _my_  kid.  I’m not going to feel good about putting you in the line of fire, ever.”

“With all due respect, Sheriff Stilinski, this is… werewolf business.”  Scott looked as serious as Stiles had ever seen him.  “Danny’s trying to deal with it, but it might be kind of messy.”

His dad paused, tapping the steering wheel.  “Why do I think you don’t mean politically messy?”

“Bloody messy,” Scott confirmed.  “But we heal, you know?”

“ _You_  heal.”  He jerked his head at Stiles.  “My son doesn’t.”

“We’re going to protect him as best as we can.”

“You can’t protect him from this,” he said softly.  “Nobody heals from this.”

Stiles swallowed.  “Dad… I need to know if he’s alive.  And if he’s not, I guarantee major, wide-scale freaking out, but until then, this is something I can do.  I  _have_  to.  I’m —“  He turned and looked at Scott and Allison.  “I’m his pack.”

Allison’s eyes widened just a fraction, before she added, “I think we kind of all are.”

His dad sighed.  “Okay.  I’m not going to understand this all right now.  Maybe at some point you could enlighten me, but right now…”  He started the car.  “We need to figure out how close we can get to the building without them hearing us.”

His dad and Scott decided the best way to do this was to approach from a safe distance and allow Scott to approach on foot, scoping out the building, after which he’d report back.  As soon as the car stopped, Stiles got out too, pacing alongside the dirt road.  

Allison was beside the car when Stiles returned on his third pass.  “Walking’s better than sitting, huh?”

“Usually.  At least it gives me something to do.”  

She joined him as he resumed his path.  “So you two… you said you’re pack now?”

He shrugged.  “Are you asking me for details?”

“I know it matters.  That things happen, when it’s an Alpha wolf doing the… doing.”

“Yeah.”  Stiles considered lying to her.  It would be one fewer thing for which he could hate himself.  But looking at her patient expression, her encouraging smile, he decided he couldn’t.  “We haven’t.  Done that.”

“So you’re not pack, yet?” she pressed.

He stopped, feeling a familiar trembling inside, and turned to look at her, suddenly angry.  “Just because he hasn’t fucked me doesn’t mean I don’t belong to him.  Okay?”

Allison nodded, eyes wide.  “No, I — okay.”  She reached out to touch his arm.  “Stiles, I told you we were here, for whatever you need.  I meant it.  Me, and Scott, we want to help.”

“I know.”  He did.  Whatever kind of brothers-in-all-but-blood existed in the world, he and Scott were it.  The trembling increased, and he shivered.  “Thank you.”

“You guys were right, when you said that we could help each other.  A wolf and a human, mated like that.  There are things we can learn from each other about what that means.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “Stiles, are you okay?”

The answer  _sure_  was on his lips, but looking at his internal state, he realized abruptly what was making him tremble.  He swayed.  “Allison… I think I can feel Danny.”

“What do you feel?”

“I don’t know, but it’s — I don’t know.”  He focused as hard as he could, trying to picture Danny the last time he’d seen him clearly, jogging with him that morning.   _Danny, we’re coming to find you.  Your sister tracked you with your cell phone.  I’m on my way._

 _Ku’u lei,_ came the immediate response.

He clapped a hand to his mouth.  However far away they were from the Alpha pack, they were close enough that they would definitely hear him if he screamed.  He grasped for Danny with his mind, but only found a vague blur.  

“Stiles?” Allison said urgently.  

“He’s alive,” Stiles whispered.  “He’s — he’s blocking me.”  This fact made him hold off on the victory high-fives.  He contained his jubilation and tried to focus.

_Where are you?  Are you okay?  Why haven’t you —_

_Stiles._ Danny sounded too exhausted to be angry.  If he were hurt, Stiles couldn’t tell.   _Stay where you are.  Don’t try to find me._

He’d turned and was rapidly walking back to the sheriff’s car, but he stopped.  Allison nearly ran into him.  

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Stiles held up a hand, forestalling her.   _What do you mean, don’t try to find you?_   

_I mean you can’t help me.  If you come here, you’ll get yourself and everybody else killed._

_Fuck that!_   He could feel the numb fear he’d been living with for the past day transforming into rage.   _What happened to not keeping this bond from me?  You said —_

_This is different, ku’u lei._

_Bullshit.  You told me I’m not going to be your sidekick.  Were you serious about being my pair or not?_

Even in the smudged silence, he could feel that quivering inside, the space that had yawned empty all morning, but now was filled with the sensation of Danny.  He wasn’t going to let Danny do this.  He  _wasn’t._ Stiles wedged himself into it that space and pushed, and felt it give.

_What are you — Stiles, don’t!_

_Were you serious?_  he repeated.

_Of course I was serious._

_Then, goddammit, let me do my part!_

Danny’s despair was clearer now, like Stiles was spraying their bond with Windex and wiping the dark blur away.  He could see a tiny, shadowy room.  Danny was hurt, but not badly, at least not anymore.  His hunger and thirst, however, were intense.

“Food,” he told Allison.  “He’s hungry.  And water.  I don’t think they’ve given him any at all.”

She nodded.  “Your dad’s got all that.  Stiles, where is he?”

Stiles was pretty certain he could figure out where Danny was, now that the block was dissipating.  The question was, what was he going to find when he got there?   _Are you listening to me?_

_Stiles, you can’t ask me to watch you die!_

_You know what?_  Stiles stopped where he was, his fists clenching.   _Our whole lives are going to be watching each other die.  That’s what you get, when you love somebody, and you never know when it’ll happen.  You said it yourself — it’ll never be enough time.  I thought it might turn out I got you for one day.  And fuck it, that’s more than most people get, ever, right?_

_Stiles —_

_No, shut up.  You don’t get to do this to me anymore. You can’t decide for me that you’re going to take all the heat just because you’re scared.  I might not have superpowers, but I can make choices just as well as you.  You’re going to have to live with me being at risk of dying, every fucking day, because — that’s life, okay?_ He swiped his eyes ineffectually with his bare arm.   _I watch my dad do it every time he goes to work.  Tonight he brought me with him because… well, because I kind of made him.  But he let me come, even though it’s scary as fuck.  And that’s just the way it is.  Life is scary as fuck, Danny, but I still get to live mine._

Danny was completely clear to him now.  Stiles could feel the cut on his arm, could trace it back to the gaping wound it had been three hours ago.  He was in a supply closet with no toilet.  His socks and shoes were wet with mud.  He was terrified because… 

 _Because I can deal with losing you,_  came the agonized whisper into Stiles’ mind,  _but not if it’s my fault.  Not if I could have done anything to prevent it._

He saw Danny stand up, felt the impact as he banged hard on the door.  Heard him call resolutely,  _tell Aidan I’m ready._

 _What are you doing?_  Stiles demanded.

 _I won’t block you again, ku’u lei._    _But you might not want to watch this._

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles muttered.  He began to run toward the car.  Allison was right there with him. “We can’t wait for Scott.  We have to go.  Now.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“Not yet, but he will be soon.”  Danny was probably right.  He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t quite stop himself from staring in fascination as Aidan arrived at the door and led him away.  “He’s accepting Aidan’s challenge.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the action scene. I will admit I have competed in martial arts in the past, but that is the closest I’ve ever gotten to being in a fight. 
> 
> Warnings for m/m intercourse, light Dom/sub dynamics, and schmoop-o-rama. This would be a nice ending, but I’ve promised to include both a heat (whatever that is; I’ll figure it out) and a future epilogue thingie. So, two more chapters, I’d guess. 
> 
> EDIT: The second-to-last chapter got way too long and involved, so I'm just making it into a sequel. So this is done, with more to come.
> 
> Thanks for reading, everybody! This was so much fun to write. Anybody who wants to write about Danny’s family or this soulbonding ‘verse is welcome to do so. 
> 
> -amy

Everybody had questions for Stiles about what was happening with Danny.  He did his best to answer them all, but dividing his attention like that, when the really crucial aspects of the situation were happening outside of his reach, was more than a little anxiety-provoking.

 _Stiles,_ Danny said finally, _you’re going to drive yourself into a panic attack._

He backed off long enough to dig in his pocket for the tiny pill container that held four Ativan, considering the handful before swallowing two of them.  _I don’t know what they’ll do to our connection._

_Be a good research project, wouldn’t it?_

Stiles closed his eyes and breathed, smiling.  _Leave it to you to think about science when you’re about to get your ass handed to you on a platter._

“Okay,” his dad said to Allison.  He’d pulled over to the side of the road at the distance they’d established was just outside the wolves’ hearing, with the patrol car behind them.  “Here’s where you get to tell me again why Scott shouldn’t wear a wire.”

Allison reached into the back and grabbed her bag.  “Because he can hear better without it, and it’d just make him self-conscious.”

“Fair enough.  And you?”

She was looking at Stiles.  “Because I’m thinking about what I can hit, not gathering intel.   Stiles, are you —“

“You really need to stop talking to me,” he said, trying to still the jiggling of his leg, “and _go get him.”_

 _They can’t interfere, Stiles,_ Danny warned.  

_They’re sure as hell going to be within yelling distance if you’re knocked out._

Out of the view of the second patrol car, Allison was readying some kind of compound shooting implement that looked sleek and deadly.  She gave Stiles a sympathetic look.  “He’s still telling you not to come, isn’t he?”

Stiles glanced in the direction of Scott’s departure, minutes before, then at the ground.  “He’s trying to tell me pack law trumps his personal safety.”

“Well, that might be true for werewolves, but it’s not true for me, and I know it’s not true for you, either.”  She shrugged.  “I think we have to start figuring out our own rules.”

It wasn’t exactly an epiphany, but what Allison said jostled something loose in Stiles’ brain.  It settled there, percolating, while Stiles watched Danny move into position at the edge of the empty warehouse.  He could see Aidan across the room from them, and beside him, Ethan.  Deucalion was nowhere to be seen, and from what Danny was sensing, he didn’t seem to be within scent distance.  

 _I’m not sure if he’s directly involved or not,_ Danny added to his internal monologue.  _But if something happens to the twins, I don’t think he’s going to ignore it._

_Scott’s in place.  My dad has two guys ready to move in, but they’ll wait on your word unless something happens._

_You mean unless I’m unconscious._

Stiles decided not to answer that.  _Ethan’s there._

_Of course he’s here.  Aidan’s the challenger, but he’s doing it for his brother._

He moved in as close as he virtually could, and imagined himself placing a hand on Danny’s back.  It was as if Danny leaned into him; he could almost feel Danny’s weight against his hand.  

 _He’s just going to distract you,_ he told Danny.

_Stiles, he’s not a spectator.  He’s here to fight me._

_What?_   Stiles tightened his grip, tugging him around.  Danny actually moved, turning to face where Stiles would have been, if he’d been there.  His arm was almost completely healed now.  _What do you mean?  You said Aidan was the challenger._

_I’m not sure they can separate the creature they become from either of their consciousnesses.  Aidan makes the challenge; one creature fights it._

Stiles was livid.  _But — tell me how that’s fair?_

It was Danny’s turn not to answer.  Stiles’ focus was pulled by his dad’s face in front of his.  He looked uneasy.  “What’s going on, buddy?”

“Aidan and Ethan, they… they’re going to fight him together.”  He didn’t think it would help to try to explain the twins at this point.  “They’re going to band together, on a technicality, and Danny can’t — he’s not ready for the two of them.  Especially not when one of them’s his boyfriend.”

His dad’s brow furrowed.  “Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah.  But that was just — less than a week ago.”  Stiles could feel the thread of the memory of their breakup in Danny’s subconscious.  It would have been tantalizingly easy to draw forth, but he resisted.  It wasn’t his business.

_Nothing to hide here, ku’u lei._

_I’m not going to poke around in your memories right before you go into battle._

_“Battle?”_

_Don’t give me any fucking grief, okay?  Right now I can barely handle the fact that your feet are soaked.  If I had my way, I’d be preparing chicken soup right now and making you eat it._

_You can’t make chicken soup._

_I’d learn,_ Stiles assured him.  He swallowed on the lump in his throat, the one that went with the words _I’ll make it for you tomorrow._ He didn’t have any assurance he’d have a soulmate to make it for tomorrow, and Danny wasn’t bothering to refute his fear.  

He realized his dad was still there, frowning at him.  

“We’re not going to let anything happen to him.  Not anything permanent.” His eyes gleamed with something Stiles barely recognized.  “Whatever laws those guys follow, they’re not my laws.”

“That’s what Allison said,” Stiles murmured.  The words niggled at him again, and he fell silent, waiting, an eye in both places.  

Allison couldn’t watch Scott the way Stiles could watch Danny, but he knew she would find a place where nobody could see her from which to observe.  Nothing was going to keep her out of shooting range if Scott was in anything like danger.  

 _You’re not a sharpshooter,_ Danny told him.

Stiles conveyed a sense of exactly how it felt to be swathed in body armor, his shirt sweaty and bunched under the material covering his shoulder blades, but Danny had only limited sympathy for him.  

_I don’t care if you’re uncomfortable, as long as you can’t do any more damage to those ribs.  Scott might have taken away the pain, but they’re still not healed._

He glanced nervously up to where his father was waiting, watching on alert.  _You’re not going to tell my dad that._

 _No, ku’u lei._ Danny was amused.  _I’m not interested in getting you in trouble with your dad.  Family’s important.  You depend on each other._

Stiles didn’t know how to say how much his dad meant to him, not in the face of all of the people who seemed to be willing to step up and take care of things, because it was going to make him cry again, and that just wasn’t what you did before witnessing an epic battle.  

Danny redirected his attention toward the floor, where Aidan was taking off his shirt, flexing his muscles.

 _Less to grab,_ Stiles suggested.  Danny sighed, pulling his green shirt off and tossing it in the corner, and Stiles added quickly, _I’m not trying to ogle you._

 _I don’t care if you are._ Danny extended his senses around the building, listening.  _I’m thinking no shirts implies the twins will be in action sooner than later - and the rest of their pack will probably be nearby to feed him strength, before they resort to that._

Stiles chewed his lip.  _What would you need from Scott and Allison, for them to be pack?  You said something about a formality._

_Do we have to talk about this now?_

_Think of me as stress relief, distracting you.  Come on, what?  A blood oath?  Poetry?  A serenade?_

Danny didn’t actually seem all that distracted, approaching Aidan and moving into an automatic defensive stance.  Stiles hadn’t known Danny studied Brazilian jiu-jitsu, but he sure as hell knew now.  He could see the strategies ordering themselves in Danny’s mind.  Not for the first time, he marveled at how much _calmer_ Danny’s thoughts were than his own.

 _It’s all internal,_ Danny told him. _The formal declaration doesn’t matter, but it’s expected.  They could commit to being pack without ever saying anything.  For me to draw on their skills and talents, well… I don’t know how to do that, exactly._

_Exactly?_

_I know it in theory.  It was explained to me.  Derek’s not much of a talker._

Stiles would have rolled his eyes, but he bit off his reply as Aidan let out a yell and closed with Danny.  Aidan’s greater bulk notwithstanding, Stiles could tell they were well-matched.  Danny’s height and greater reach gave him an advantage, and he was a lot quicker and more flexible than Aidan.  

“They’re starting,” he told his dad quietly.

 _Allison said, anything you need, they’re ready to help._ Stiles tried not to be anxious, watching Danny take a rolling fall, but he was up again almost immediately, barely breathing hard.  _Maybe that’s enough?_  

 _Enough?_   Again, Danny waited for Aidan to make a move, and redirected him onto the dusty concrete floor.  _I don’t want to do this,_ he said to Aidan.  

Stiles couldn’t hear Aidan’s answer, but he got an up-close view of his determined face as they grappled.  

 _Just let me go and I won’t bother you,_ was Danny’s reply _.  I’m not interested in interfering with your pack dominance._ He ducked several blows and absorbed one on his shoulder.  Stiles could tell it hurt, and even though he couldn’t exactly feel it himself, he winced anyway.   _Well, maybe it should work that way._

Stiles straightened, feeling Danny’s words spur him into action.  “Dad,” he said urgently.

“Time to move in?” he responded immediately.  Stiles shook his head.  

“Soon, maybe, but… I need to talk to Scott.”  He moved close enough to the edge of the building that his dad pushed him back out of the way.  “Right now.  Remember how I said I thought there was stuff I could do to help?”

His dad looked suspicious.  “Yeah?”

“I think there might be stuff that we can _all_ do.  Or maybe we’ve already done it, I’m not sure.  Can you get me to Scott?”

“No.  Not in the middle of this engagement.”  

He could tell from his absent tone that it wasn’t a negotiation, and his dad wasn’t going to budge.  Stiles sighed.  “Okay.  I’ll have to figure something else out.”

He winced again as Aidan’s claws pierced Danny’s shoulder.  _He’s going to heal,_ he reminded himself again.  But he could also feel Danny tiring, his strength sapped by the day spent in solitary confinement without food or water.  The next time Aidan knocked him down, Danny took a little longer to get up.  Stiles saw the flash of victory in Aidan’s eyes, and he gritted his teeth.  

 _You need to do something,_ he insisted.  

 _I’m doing it, Stiles.  Just trust me._   Danny spat blood on the floor, ducked Aidan’s fist and swept his leg, coming down hard on top of Aidan when he fell.  He growled at Ethan when he tried to approach.  _Back off, asshole.  You don’t have any claim here._

Stiles tried another angle.  _It’s legal, for him to draw on the energy of his pack?_

_Yes.  And even if it weren’t, I couldn’t exactly stop him._

_So if you could do that, that’d be okay?_

_Pack of one, here, Stiles._ He absorbed the impact of Aidan’s knee on his thigh, but executed a  brutal joint lock on Aidan’s arm and managed to force him to back off.  While Danny caught his breath, Aidan wheeled away to confer with his brother, who didn’t look at all happy.  

_Danny, if you’d never let me find you, would I still be your soulmate?_

Danny shook his head.  _What?_

_Would we still be paired, even if I never knew?  I mean — maybe I would have known, on some level._

_This is pointless, Stiles._

_No, I’m serious.  I don’t think there’s anything you could have done.  If we were predestined or uniquely chemically coupled or whatever language you want to use… this, us — it was already done.  It was a done deal, Danny.  You were mine and I was yours, no matter what either of us thought we knew._

_Okay, maybe._   Danny sounded so tired.  _Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered._

_So that makes me think this is more than an ordinary bond.  We connected — but it was more than that.  In less than an hour, it was more than that.  I could hear all of your words, see every detail of what you were doing.  Everything.  I knew it all. I could taste the fucking pizza you were eating.  Who gets that?_

Danny didn’t respond immediately, watching the twins, but Stiles could tell he was listening.  _I don’t know._

_No, the answer is nobody.  Nobody gets that.  My dad said he’d never heard of anything like that from another pairbonded couple._

_Stiles, that’s not true.  My grandparents —_

_I know, Cara said, they were like a superhero team when they were together.  But you also said you needed to be touching to break through a block.  I was like half a mile away when I did that.  So we’re not together.  And I was thinking the difference might be that — if we were pack._ He paused.  _Am I right?_

 _We’re not,_ Danny told him. _You know we’re not._

 _Yeah, well, I think we are.  I think maybe not in the Alpha-wolf-claims-his-Beta kind of way, but… I think if you’re looking for the pack advantage?_   Stiles moved in close in his mind, just as he’d done when he was trying to get through Danny’s block, and _pushed,_ feeling the energy move from him into Danny.  _I think you’ve already got it._

He felt Danny gasp.  It wasn’t out of shock, but rather a natural inhalation, like he was surrounded by Stiles and was breathing him in.  _Oh —_

 _I’m not saying you couldn’t win without it._ He couldn’t help feeding him a little more, sensing Danny’s pain ebbing, his strength building, because that felt _good,_ it felt so goddamn _right_ to do that.  _I’m just saying… I’m here.  I’m pretty sure_ ** _we’re_** _here, if you need us._

He felt Danny stand a little straighter.  _That’s — fuck, Stiles._

 _Yeah,_ Stiles agreed, dizzy with triumph.  It was a better high than any drug he’d ever experienced.

 _Okay._ He took another deep breath of Stiles-Scott-Allison.  _Looks like you were right.  And I think you were right about something else: I’m going to need it._

Stiles had never had such an up close and personal view of the twins merging.  It was possibly the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen.  He must have made a noise, because his dad asked, “What happened?”

“Odds changed again,” he muttered.  He tried to focus, to smile, to look at anything other than the enormous, horrific creature hulking before Danny.  _You had sex with that?_

 _Never._   Danny backed away a step as the twins approached him, each stride as long as one and a half of his own.  _Not a threesome I ever would have considered._

Stiles was a little surprised at how fearless he suddenly felt.  The process of feeding himself to Danny required almost no effort.  The appropriate metaphor was less like a hot dog-eating contest and more like filling a water wheel with a large pitcher.  Danny drank it quickly, but Stiles was able to keep up with his need, dipping his pitcher into the pool of himself and Allison and Scott and continuing to pour.  Danny was improved in every dimension — stronger, faster, more agile — and even though the merged twins were impressive, it didn’t feel like an unfair fight anymore.  Stiles almost laughed when Danny ducked under their massive fist and it impacted with the cinderblock wall.  

Eventually, though, it became clear they were running out of options.  Danny wasn’t going to tire them out any more than they were going to tire him out.  The twins glared at him in perplexity and called something that Stiles couldn’t hear.

 _I told you,_ Danny said.  _I’m not going to._

That made them even more angry, but when they went for Danny this time, he faked a jab to their face.  When the twins flinched back, Danny dropped into a squat and lunged for their legs, grasping one in each arm.  Then, suddenly, he shoved off the ground, sweeping the twins’ legs aside and thrusting a shoulder into their chest.  Stiles could feel the twins twisting and heaving under Danny’s weight, but they seemed to be effectively pinned.

 _You did it!_ Stiles crowed, rising to his feet.  

 _Such faith._ Danny slapped away the twins’ flailing hands.  He was brimming with triumph.  

“Dad,” he said, “he’s got him pinned.  If you’re thinking you want to charge Aidan, this would probably be a good time to move in, but… um.  It’s both of them.  The twins.”

“Two against one, huh?”  Stiles’ dad’s face was sour, but he nodded, rounding the corner with Stiles behind him.  He spoke quickly into the radio receiver. 

“You could say that,” he agreed.

But by the time he and his dad arrived, the twins had separated.  Scott was there on the floor, about two arm hairs away from transformation, hovering close by as Danny backed away from the skirmish.  The twins glowered at him.  Stiles still couldn’t see Allison, but he was done looking at anything but Danny.  

“Wait,” Stiles begged his dad, tripping over his own feet in his haste.  “Just a little bit longer — right here, you can hear if I scream —“

He didn’t wait for an answer.  Danny turned to face him, and Stiles shot right into his arms.  His ribs didn't even twinge.

 _Ku’u lei,_ Stiles said without thinking.  

Danny’s grip tightened, cupping Stiles’ head against his neck, and Stiles heard him made a soft noise, like a sob.  _Mau loa._

“All right, guys,” Scott said to the twins, circling around to stand between Danny and Stiles and the twins.  “You know the police are waiting outside.  Can we just drop this?”

“This isn’t over,” Aidan snapped.  “Challenge ends when one Alpha kills another.”

Danny turned to face him.  “I could have killed you.”

“Then why didn’t you?  You’re weak.”

He shook his head.  “If you don’t know why I’d rather defy tradition than kill your brother, I’m glad we’re fighting on different sides.”

Aidan was simmering, his fury barely contained.  “Pack law —“

“Not _my_ pack law,” Danny said clearly, loud enough for his voice to carry across the room.  “We’re a pack of humans and werewolves.  Maybe the first one ever.  We’re already changing the rules.” 

Ethan reached out for his brother, tugging on his arm, his face drawn.  Aidan spat onto the blood-spattered concrete floor before taking a step back.  “You’re disgusting.”

Stiles choked on a laugh.  “Seriously?”

Danny turned away from them with a little smile, grabbing his shirt and nodding at Stiles to head for the door.  Scott was right there, watching out for them, and Stiles was sure Allison was covering them from some unseen corner, but it still felt deliciously rude to imply they didn’t need to bother to guard their flank.  He grinned at Danny.

“You were such a badass,” he gushed, and Danny turned a dusky pink.

“I haven’t practiced BJJ for almost two years.  I’m a little surprised I remembered the holds at all.”

Stiles peeked over Danny’s shoulder.  Other than Scott, the room was now empty.  

When he emerged through the door, his dad looked startled, but not too startled to press a bottle of water into Danny’s hands.  

“Where —“ he asked, but Danny shook his head, draining the bottle.

“They left.  And I’m not going to press charges.  It’s better this way.”  He took a long breath.  His eyes were clear.  “I don’t think they’re going to push it.  Not right now, anyway.  Not until they figure us out.”

Scott came up to stand next to Stiles, casting a sideways look at Danny.  The expression on his face was fascinating.  “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “You?”

“I’m fine,” he confirmed.  “So, uh.  Nice job in there.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.  “If you’re waiting for me to ask you to kneel or something, you can give it up.”

Scott laughed.  “Nah.  Not — well, maybe something?  I don’t know.  Buy you a pizza?”

When Stiles looked back at Danny, Allison was beside him.  He didn’t bother to pretend not to be surprised, and she grinned at him, hiking her lumpy bag a little higher on her shoulder.  

“Can we have a name?” she said.  

Danny’s other eyebrow went up.  “A name.”

“Yeah.  You know, a name.  For our pack.”

“That’s…”  Danny paused.  Then he shrugged.  “Sure.  Why not.  I think I’d draw the line at t-shirts, though.”

Scott and Allison rode back to the station in the squad car with the two confused officers, who were almost certainly wondering what had happened, which left Stiles and Danny to climb into the back of his dad’s car and cluster together, their thighs and arms touching and their hands firmly linked.  Stiles could almost see his dad grappling with his urge to tell them to _knock it off, already,_ but the only thing they heard from the front seat was a tired sigh.

“I’ll take you to your house, Danny,” his dad said, “but I’m afraid we’re going to have make another stop at the station after that before you’re done.  Even if you’re not going to press charges, there’s paperwork to finish.  But you can get cleaned up and eat something first.”

“Thank you, sir,” Danny said.  Stiles fed him a little energy, and he rested his hand on Stiles’ knee, squeezing it.  “I’m actually doing pretty well.”

 _I keep thinking there’s going to be a crash at some point, here,_ Stiles said, trying not to be too obvious about turning his face toward Danny and inhaling his sweaty scent.  _Like, there’s a gauge somewhere that I’m missing, and it’s probably close to flashing “empty,” but… I don’t feel anything close to that yet._

_I don’t either.  But let me know, okay, if you start to?_

“Sounded like quite a fight in there,” his dad was saying.  “I’m kind of sorry I missed it.  You studied Brazilian jiu-jitsu?”

“Until freshman year,” Danny agreed.  “I didn’t have time for it after joining lacrosse.”

“I did judo, myself.  Maybe you could teach Stiles.”

Stiles let the shit-eating grin take over his face.  “Sure, dad.  I’d be happy to let Danny wrestle me into submis — hey!”

Danny was digging into the muscles on either side of his knee with his fingers.  _I can see we’re going to have to work on respecting your elders._

His mental tone was so deadpan that Stiles couldn’t be sure if he was being serious or not.  He licked his lips.  _You’re not that much older than me._

 _I’m talking about your dad, ku’u lei._ But now he was smiling, and Stiles snuggled against him, feeling smug and safe and whole.

 _My dad’s not going to make you go home, you know._ He glanced up at Danny, watching his breath speed up momentarily.  _You think you should?_

 _I think I should,_ he agreed, _for at least a while.  But you could come with me._

_Oh, no question.  I’m sticking with you.  Scott promised you free pizza._

Danny gave his dad directions to his house.  He parked in Danny’s driveway — on the wrong side, but after Danny’s crack about respect, Stiles decided he’d better not inform him of that — and followed them up to the porch, where Danny’s mother met them at the door.  She’d clearly been crying, but her face was dry when she hugged Danny, and followed that with an equally fierce hug for Stiles.  

“Thank you,” she said, shaking Stiles' dad’s hand firmly.  “I must admit I thought the worst, but he looks —“  She turned to Danny with a quizzical look.

“I’m fine,” he said, nodding.  “Really.  Hungry.”

She laughed.  “I think I can take care of that.  Sheriff, will you join us?”

Stiles noticed she didn’t even ask if _he_ was going to be staying.  His dad made one feeble protest before joining them inside. 

Tutu was waiting in the kitchen for them, not looking at all surprised to see them, and there was another round of hugs.  Cara didn’t attempt to hug Danny (“He smells like a _boy,”_ she said, wrinkling her nose), but she didn’t leave his side while their mother prepared dinner.  When Stiles happened to mention to his dad the way she’d beat him at cards, she produced a deck from her pocket, waving it like she was holding a bribe, and Stiles laughed and offered to deal.  Admittedly, Danny lost some game time while he showered, but by the time dinner was ready, Cara was already beating all of them by at least sixty points. 

Stiles was pretty sure he was the only one who could tell how much Danny tensed up when the garage door opened.  He didn’t look up from the game.

“Dad,” Stiles said as casually as he could, “you’re blocking Danny’s dad’s spot in the garage.  Okay if I move the car?”

 _Now_ Danny looked uneasy, but he refrained from speaking while Stiles’ dad dug in his pocket and handed Stiles the keys.  He gestured at the cards.  “I’m going to take this trick while you’re gone, just letting you know.”

 _Stiles,_ Danny said.  He sounded more tired than he had during the fight with the twins.  _You can’t win this one._

 _Such faith,_ Stiles retorted, but he didn’t stick his tongue out, and he managed not to slam the door on the way outside.  

Danny’s dad had already pulled into the space beside the police car and was standing in the driveway looking at it, somewhat perplexed, but when he saw Stiles, his face smoothed into a polite mask. 

“Stiles,” he said.  “My wife called me at work to say Danny had been safely recovered.”

“No,” Stiles said.  Danny's dad paused, watching him with a familiar little frown.  Stiles almost grinned when he recognized the expression as one of Cara’s.

“No?”

“He’s safe,” Stiles amended, “and he’s here.  But the police didn’t have to do anything.  Danny did all the work. He totally kicked ass.”

Danny's father’s mouth looked like it was trying to form words, but eventually it stopped, closed on whatever the words had been, and gave him a clipped nod.

“He has… some skill at defending himself,” he said reluctantly.  

“It was awesome.  Anyway, I’m gonna move my dad’s car so you can get into the garage.” He jingled the keys, putting on his most cheerful smile. “Hey, you know, I know a little about cars.  That Buick in there, I bet we could get it running again.”

Stiles could tell he’d recklessly stepped all over some kind of line, from Danny’s reaction, but he didn’t let Danny’s father’s resolutely blank face stop him.  He left him there and climbed into the Sheriff’s car, pulling it smoothly out into the street and parking it along the curb.  When Stiles got out, Danny’s dad was in his sedan again.  Danny was almost apoplectic.

 _You got him to move the car,_ he said, as though it were comparable to _you beat the Alpha pack with a handful of humans and one lousy werewolf._

 _You bet I did,_ Stiles said, not bothering not to sound cocky.  

_You don’t know the first thing about cars._

_Nope._

_And you’re planning to fix my grandfather’s Buick._

_Yep._   He jingled the keys again, giving Danny's dad a little wave as he headed back toward the house.  _And your dad’s going to help me._

_My dad doesn’t know anything about cars either, Stiles._

_Well, then, he’ll get the chance to feel smarter than me._

He paused on his path back toward the kitchen, reversed his trajectory, heading up the stairs to Danny’s room, and sat waiting on his bed.  He didn’t have to wait long.  Danny arrived in the doorway, staring at him with disbelief.

“You’re insane, you know that?”

“No,” he said.  “I’m making friends with my boyfriend’s father.”

Danny glanced once down the hallway, then closed the door very, very quietly behind him before climbing on top of Stiles and pressing him firmly onto the bed.  Stiles’ laugh caught in his throat as he looked up at Danny, at his dilated pupils, his hungry expression.

“I love you,” Danny said.

“Yeah,” said Stiles, reaching for him, “yeah, I love you too.”

There were a whole lot of kisses and desperate hands and maybe a little bit of crying before more words came out.  It appeared they didn’t really need them anyway, but Stiles figured old habits probably would die hard.

“Is this really okay, that we’re up here?”

“No,” Danny said.  

Those were all the words Stiles managed for the next several minutes, until he saw Danny reach into the drawer beside his bed and produce a tube of what absolutely was not toothpaste.  He swallowed.

“We’re going to do this with my _dad_ downstairs?”

“Yeah.”  Danny already had both hands working on removing Stiles’ shorts.  The way he was handling him, it obviously wasn’t taking any effort, and that was a completely unexpected turn-on.  By the time Danny flipped him over onto his knees, he was leaking all over the bed, spreading his legs as wide as he could and thrusting back with a needy whine.  

Danny’s hand immediately slid over his mouth, holding him still.  _You’re going to be very quiet._

 _Yes,_ Stiles said immediately.  

Danny’s fingers were moving with purpose, doing something with the tube of not-toothpaste.  _And this is going to be very quick._

 _Yes,_ he pleaded.

When he felt Danny’s fingers press the cold, slippery substance against him, he barely managed to contain his moan, but Danny cautioned, _shhh,_ and he fell forward onto his folded arms, resting one cheek against Danny’s pillow.  He didn’t need his eyes to see the way Danny was leaning over him, tender and focused and absolutely in control.

“Oh my _god,”_ he whispered, letting his eyes close, and gave himself over to the wet slide of Danny inside him.  It was definitely _not_ his fingers — he bit his tongue on the pain, but that was almost better, because it went a long way toward keeping him from coming immediately — filling him, more than filling him, and retreating and doing it again, and again, and — he let out a startled squeak.

Danny stopped.  _Is it your ribs?  Those injuries --_

 _Not my ribs,_ Stiles promised.  They still didn't hurt.  I _just... felt something.  Inside._

_Good or bad?_

_I — don’t know?  Try it again._

This time, when Danny pulled back and thrust inside, Stiles let himself _push_ a little, not with his body, but with his energy.  Now it was Danny’s turn to make a surprised noise, and he stopped again, his body still and quivering.

_That’s… going to make this a lot quicker._

_I think that’s okay,_ Stiles told him.  _It’s not like we’re never going to do it again._

Danny smothered his laughter, half-collapsed over Stiles, there on his bed.  

 _Okay,_ he acknowledged finally, _no, I’m sure you’re right._

_I might come without you touching me, if you do that hard and fast enough._

_That sounds like a challenge._  

Stiles wanted to tell him no, it wasn’t, it was just a fact, but the idea thrilled Danny so much that he didn’t bother to say anything.  _Yes,_ he said, as Danny grasped Stiles’  hips and delivered on the challenge, and it was an answer to everything, to everything Danny was doing, had ever done, would ever do to him, with him, for him.  The answer was yes, and Stiles could tell it always would be.  

He came one stroke ahead of Danny, holding himself up on shaking legs, until Danny gave him an arm to support him.  They were both as silent as they could be, which wasn’t exactly silent, but it was certainly enough to keep anyone else in the house from hearing what they were doing.

 _Which everybody already knows we’re doing,_ Stiles pointed out.  He didn’t really want to move, but they’d agreed it would be quick.  Feeling Danny slide out of him made him twitch again.  

Danny sighed, climbing off the bed and crouching beside the bed.  _Probably._  

_You know I feel amazing, right?_

_Yeah,_ Danny agreed.  _You know I do, too?_

 _I think that kind of goes without saying._ Stiles sat up gingerly, feeling the new, odd sensations, inside and out.  _I think I could have come again, if you’d stayed hard longer._

 _Taunt me, why don’t you._ He knelt in close between Stiles’ legs, touching his cheek, his neck, his lips.  _I’ve never had a problem with coming too soon._

 _Oh, no,_ Stiles assured him, letting himself be kissed.  Danny’s kisses were doing a more than adequate job of getting him hard again.  _I’m cool.  I’m so cool, I’m just — fuck, I’m not at all cool._

 _Yeah,_ Danny said, and held him tight while he shook.  _I know._

Stiles rested in the cushion of Danny’s thoughts, the ones that weren’t quite articulated, but nonetheless made him feel like he was in the presence of the most incredible person on the face of the earth.  He wondered how much of that was the soulbond and how much of it was just _true._

 _I really love you,_ Stiles said, feeling kind of surprised to hear himself saying it again.  

_That’s — the best news I’ve heard all day, ku’u lei._

He let Danny hold him a few moments longer, then he shook himself and gave him a resolute smile.  “Okay.  I think I can look  your mother in the eye now without completely freaking out.”

Danny gave him an oblique smile as he dug in his drawer for clean underwear.  “How about your dad?”

“Oh, no, I’m totally going to freak out about that.  I’ll try to wait until I get home to do it, at least.”

On the way back down the stairs, he put a hand on Danny’s shoulder, stopping him momentarily.  Danny looked back at him with concern.

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“That crack about threesomes… so, uh, does that mean there’s a threesome you _would_ —?”

Danny pressed his lips together and considered Stiles for a long moment.  _Do you really want to know the answer?_

“Yes,” Stiles said.  “Wait, no.  Maybe?”

He took Stiles' hand, giving it a squeeze, and smiled.  _I can live with that._


End file.
